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BIRTH 

AND 

ADOPTION 



A BOOK 

OF 

PROSE AND POETRY 



BY 

**ROCKY MOUNTAIN" O'BRIEN 



1904 



Price Bound in Cloth: One Dollar 

Paper: Fifty Cents 
Postpaid to Any Part of the World 



ADDRESS 

Patrick ** Rocky Mountain" O'Brien 

20 Walker Street, New York 



OCT 1 t904 
I fJooyrfght Entrv 

CLASS ^ XXe. No. 

COPY B 



T5 3^^1 



Copyright, 1904, 

BY 

Patrick "Rocky Mountain" O'Brien. 



• • • 

• • • 



England Applying the Torch in America. 

Hiring Indians to Scalp Innocent Babes 
And Mothers During the Absence of 
Their Fathers and Husbands, Who 
Were Fighting with Washington in the 
Revolutionary War. 

Burning the National Capitol. 

Opening Smallpox Hospitals in Boston and 
Trying to Cause an Epidemic Among 
the Soldiers When She Could Not Sub- 
due Washington by Any Other Means. 

Blowing the Sepoys from the Mouth of 
Cannon During the Indian Mutiny. 

Dynamiting Zulus in South Africa When 
They Sought Refuge in Their Caves. 

Burning of Farm Houses and Ravishing of 
Women During the Boer War in South 
Africa. 

Vigorous Denunciation of "Dooley/' the 
Scavenger Cad, and Other Lampooners 
of the Irish Race. 

Roosevelt's Gallant Charge at the Battle 
OF San Juan. 

Dewey, the Hero; Also the "Maine." 



IN PROSE AND POETRY, 

Including 
Irish and Irish-American Poems, 

BY 

"ROCKY MOUNTAIN" O'BRIEN, 
20 Walker Street, New York. 



Cloth Bound, $i.oo; Paper, 50 Cents, 



PREFACE. 

In presenting this book of poems to the pubHc I do not 
pretend to be a Goldsmith, a Davis or a Moore. I have 
done the best I could, and, under the circumstances, I 
hope the kind reader will appreciate my work all the more. 

I have written some of these poems in the dead hours 
of the night, often when my thoughts wandered far across 
the sea to the little church and the schoolhouse and vines, 
meadowland and wood, where I first saw the light of day. 
More of them were written on the broad Atlantic, nearing 
the land of my birth ; and some were written when return- 
ing to the land of my adoption. The language used in 
this book may not sound parliamentary, but to me it 
sounds very expressive, and therefore I offer no apology. 

When a boy of seventeen I was forced to leave Ireland 
(not through any row with the family coachman, but 
owing to the despotic and tyrannical English laws), and 
I came to America to seek freedom under the "glorious 
and starry banner of the greatest nation on the globe." 

For thirty years or more I have been a citizen of this 
nation. Eight children were born to me here, and the 
saddest blow I ever received was when their mother, one 
of the best and noblest women that ever lived, passed 
away from them and me on the eighth day of January, 
1899. She is now sleeping her last sleep in Calvary 
Cemetery, New York. May peace be hers. She was my 
joy and pride, and life without her has been a sad one 
to me. 

My father died in 1869 while I was on my way 
to him on board the steamship *'City of Washing- 



6 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

ton," which plied the waters from New York to the Cove 
of Cork. Owing to some mishap to the machinery the 
steamer was detained at HaHfax, Nova Scotia, so when I 
reached my father's house he was in his cold and silent 
grave. Had we met with no obstacle on the high seas 
I would have seen the face of the father whom I left 
broken-hearted a few years before; but fate decreed that 
it should not be. 

The family were scattered far and wide. Two of my 
sisters were in America — Mrs. O'Connell, of Oregon, now 
dead, and Mrs. Duffy, now living in Rochester, N. Y. 

Two young children and my mother survived my father 
in Ireland; my mother died twelve years ago, and was 
buried beside my father in Ardfield Graveyard, adjacent 
to Gallyhead, on the south coast of Ireland, facing the 
Atlantic Ocean. Last Summer I erected over their grave 
a monument with an Irish inscription on one side and 
an English inscription on the other. 

England has murdered and plundered the Irish people 
for the past seven centuries. She has robbed them of 
their industries and their language ; she has leveled once 
happy homes to the ground by her merciless crowbar 
brigades; she has thrown aged fathers and gray-haired, 
weeping mothers out on the wayside with nothing but 
the blue sky of heaven to shelter them. Such acts as 
these have enkindled a bitter hatred in my heart against 
England and her accursed laws^ and if ever an oppor- 
tunity presents itself I will be ready to strike that longed- 
for blow against that ''tyrant of tyrants." I believe the 
Irish people are justified in resorting to every means to 
overthrow English misrule. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 7 

England has applied the torch on more occasions than 
one. She blew the Sepoys from the mouths of cannon 
in India. She destroyed the homes of the gallant Boers 
who fought for the same God-given rights that George 
Washington and his countrymen fought for almost two 
centuries ago. As late as 1812, 1813 and 1814 England 
burned the National Capitol and several towns along the 
coast of Long Island. 

England has not paid one cent for any territory she 
ever acquired, and has always left a trail of blood in 
her tracks, especially whenever she robbed half-civilized 
peoples of their homes and lands. She dynamited the 
poor Zulus in South Africa when they sought refuge in 
their caves. 

England has broken every treaty she ever made with 
Ireland. She bayoneted unborn babes in the streets of 
Clonakilty, tearing them from their mothers' wombs. 

Since the day Strongbow set foot on Irish soil the 
Irish people have been the victims of the foulest crimes 
on record. Men and women have been murdered in 
cold blood for defending their homes. Irish patriots 
were put to death in the '98 revolution after 
they had laid down their arms. Ellen McDonough was 
foully murdered at Belmullet a few years ago. Tim 
Cadogan was murdered a year or so ago by a judge and 
packed jury. Much to their disgrace there were six 
so-called Roman Catholics on this jury. At the first 
trial there was a disagreement of the jury, which was 
composed of Protestants and one Roman Catholic. At 
the second trial the jury, composed of six Protestants and 
six Roman Catholics, found Cadogan guilty on evidence 



8 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

furnished by perjurers, not sufficient to convict a 
fly. The foreman of the jury that found Allen, Larkin 
and O'Brien guilty was a Catholic. The foreman of the 
jury that convicted Cadogan is a Roman Catholic. He 
is a would-be commercial traveler — a mongrel misfit — 
who tries to sell one-way flour to Bantry and Skibbereen 
bread-winners. 

The Irishman born in Ireland, be he Protestant, 
Catholic, Orangeman or Peeler, who shows his loyalty 
to the English Government is far worse than Judas 
Iscariot, who betrayed our Divine Redeemer. His price, 
I believe, was thirty pieces of silver, but in my opinion 
a man who dons the uniform of the enemy of his country 
would sell his country for one piece of silver, and a very 
small piece at that. 

I look upon the Irish Constabulary as the greatest curse 
and the worst enemy to the Irish race. Strange to say, 
this body is made up to a large extent of the sons of 
small farmers; the balance of the spurious spawn 
of absentee landlords. The Peelers are the first 
to help to level the homes of their unfortunate country- 
men, and leave their kith and kin with nothing 
to shelter them from the inclemency of the weather 
except the blue sky of heaven and the air which 
is polluted by the presence of the infamous crow- 
bar brigade. One favorite pastime of the Peelers is to 
meet little children about 10 years old and inquire from 
them the movements of their fathers and brothers. One 
of these Peelers offered a little 9-year-old girl in my 
native town a box of sweets if she would watch my move- 
ments and report to him those persons with whom she 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 9 

saw me conversing and the purport of the conversation, 
but the villain was unaware that I was told to be on my 
guard by the wife of one of his fellow "bloodhounds." 
She was an 18-karat Irishwoman. 

One of the most infamous of these Peelers is Sergeant 
Sheridan. Judas Iscariot was decent compared to him. 
No government under the canopy of heaven except the 
English would tolerate such diabolical deeds as his. I 
am sorry to say that the banner founded by the illustrious 
Washington shelters this wolf in sheep's clothing. That 
samie banner refused shelter to James Fitzharris ("Skin 
the Goat"), who refused to betray his comrades, notwith- 
standing the fact that he was offered twenty thousand 
pounds ($100,000) by the Gladstone government. That 
was the only crime Fitzharris could be accused of, and 
shame on the Administration that was instrumental in 
sentencing him to deportation. 

A greater shame still rests with the Irish organizations 
of America that did not enter a stronger protest against 
Fitzharris's and Mullet's deportation when they were on 
Ellis Island, under the shadow of the Bartholdi Statue 
of Liberty. I will do the A. O. H. justice by letting the 
public know that they were the only Irish organization 
that called meetings and protested against the 
deportation. 

I have just stated that the majority of Irish Peelers 
are sons of small farmers, and the balance favorites of 
the landlords who spend their ill-gotten gains in the 
brothels of Paris, the gambling hells of Monte Carlo, 
Spitalfields, Fordham Flats and the Sodomite dens of 
Cleveland street, a la Oscar Wilde, Russell & Co. And 



10 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

these are the people employed by the English Govern- 
ment to keep the peace in Ireland ! 

Is it any wonder then that the Irish people should be 
slaves when hirelings of this character are allowed all 
over poor down-trodden Ireland? Still you will often 
see these cowardly ruffians occupying the front pews in 
the churches on Sunday, where no decent man or woman 
should associate with them; but, such is life. It takes 
all kinds of people to make a world, and we have them 
both here and in Ireland. 

I can shake the hand any time of the poor unfortunate 
soldier who takes the shilling, for he lacks brains ; if he 
did not, he would have no occasion to work for 15 pence 
a day; very often he enlists through drunkenness, but 
with all this and his misfortune he will do as little as 
possible of England's dirty work, knowing her to be the 
bitter enemy of his countr}^ I look at the sailor in the 
same light as I do the soldier ; the Peeler, however, is al- 
ways on the alert for information, and will procure it 
by fair means or foul. 

This is a correct version of the Irish Constabulary as I 
have found them during the past thirty years, and I can 
vouch for it that they have not changed any for the 
better since. The pay of these vile wretches is only 25 
shillings a week ($6.25 in American money), a sum 
which a 12-year-old boy can earn here. I remember 
when I was a child in Ireland a farmer would consider 
it a family disgrace to have a daughter of his marry a 
Peeler, but I am sorry to say such is not the case now 
in some parts of Ireland. In other parts of Ireland a 
tinker is preferable to a Peeler, and there is no reason 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 11 

why he should not be, because while the former is not a 
traitor to the land that bore him, the latter is. The black- 
smith, the shoemaker, the tailor, the coal heaver, the 
chimney sweep or the baker can earn far more than these 
despoilers of happy homes, and should be far preferable 
to Irish girls; but the latter prefer the companionship of 
the Peelers to that of the honest, industrious craftsmen 
herein mentioned. 

This preface is founded on facts which came under 
my own observation during the past thirty years. One 
class of people I must pay a well-deserved tribute to — the 
National School Teachers of Ireland. I found them of 
both sexes, with very few exceptions, all thoroughly 
patriotic, and although they are government employees, 
they reflect great credit on the Emerald Isle. I am sure, 
from what came under my personal observation, they 
would be foremost in the ranks of an Irish 
brigade striking a blow for the freedom of 
their native land; and I am sure the lady teachers 
would not be found lacking in love of country 
if the crisis came, for I have found some of the best 
and bravest of our race among them during my travels 
through Ireland in the past three years, as well as 
thirty years ago. Takiag everything into consideration, 
the hirelings and minions of the Crown are in the 
minority in Ireland, and the toady, the lickspittle, the 
sycophant, the shoneen, the gombeen, the bailiff and the 
squireen are looked upon as copperheads or rattlesnakes 
would be in America. They are creatures of the earth — ■ 
reptiles who are ashamed of the land that bore them, and 
who are adding link after link to the chains that bind 



12 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

her by perjury and jury-packing. They have, however, 
thank God! no standing among the Irish race either at 
home or abroad, especially in this great and glorious 
republic. 

I abhor the Irishman or Irishwoman, no matter where 
their children are born, who does not bring them up to 
hate the persecutor of their race, but unfortunately there 
are too many who fail to do so in this great and glorious 
republic. Too many children of Irish parents are too 
fond of patronizing the Harrigan & Hart drama acted 
by sixth-class actors, who caricature the ancestors of 
these children and receive from them an unlimited 
amount of applause. The children do this simply be- 
cause their parents do not instruct them in their duty. 
Why, I have known not long ago our people to be carica- 
tured at so-called church fairs at Georgetown College, 
D. C. Our people were made fun of also by certain 
actors. 

I have no use for the stage Irishman, nor for the 
people that give him any encouragement. I have 
every reason to hate the English Government; in fact, 
my hatred for England is as great as my love for Ireland. 
Through England's cursed and tyrannical laws I was 
forced to leave home and become a wanderer, and 
though I have lived here principally ever since, 
under the greatest banner that ever floated over 
any nation in the world, I still look upon Ireland as 
my home, and although I am an American citizen, a title 
I certainly feel proud of, and have complied with all the 
necessary qualifications to make me such, I can never feel 
that this is my country; and though I married a woman 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 13 

born on American soil and who bore me eight children, 
all of whom saw the dawn of light 'neath the starry 
banner and are now living here, still I never can feel as 
if this were my country. 

"Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 
'This is my own, my native land' ?" 

Some fifteen years ago, about ten miles from the city 
of Los Angeles, Cal., I was driving through the country, 
and stopped at a farmhouse to inquire the way to an 
adjoining town. As I alighted from the wagon a dog 
in the yard began to bark, when suddenly the lady of the 
house called Gladstone to *'lie down," but the more she 
appealed to him the louder he barked. She dealt him, 
however, a blow which brought him to his senses. I 
thought she was an English woman, who, out of respect 
for the ex-Premier, had named her dog after him. 

"Madam," said I, "what an historical name you have 
given that dog." 

"Yes," said she, "I named him after the lowest cur dog 
in all England." 

"How is that?" asked I. 

"Come into the house," said she, "and I will explain, 
especially if you are an Irishman." I answered in the 
affirmative. Then she ushered me into a very spacious 
parlor, beautifully furnished. 

My attention was at once attracted by a large picture 
of Allen, Larkin and O'Brien; also one of O'Donovan 
Rossa, with his hands manacled behind his back, lapping 
his food like a beast. 



14 ' BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

"Look at those pictures there," said she. "Gladstone 
murdered three of them and the other poor man might 
just as well be dead, for not satisfied with their treat- 
ment of him while in their clutches, the Gladstone gov- 
ernment sent a hired assassin in the shape of a she-devil 
to kill him." With these words the noble Irishwoman 
commenced to cry, and I admit I had hard work to 
suppress the tears. 

I shook her very warmly by the hand, and left with a 
good impression of Mrs. Lynch, for that was her name. 
She was born in the County Kerry. If there were 
more Lynches in America there would be fewer stage 
Irishmen throughout this broad land. 

Mrs. Lynch believes in physical force as the only 
means by which the Irish people can ever obtain their 
liberty. So does Luke Lynch, of Brooklyn ; his brother. 
Father Lynch, of San Francisco; Miss Mary Lynch and 
Miss Nellie Lynch, of Boston; Captain Peter M. Kelly, 
of Chicago; Miss Margaret Barron and Miss Nora 
Barron, of Ardmore; Miss Eleanor Burke, and last, but 
not least, my life-long friend, that indomitable war-horse, 
O'Donovan Rossa, and likewise Charley Doran, of the 
Cove of Cork. 

I am sorry, exceedingly so, to have to speak as I have 
spoken about people born in Ireland, but I speak the 
truth, knowing what I state to be facts, and to you who 
have never seen the shores of poor old Ireland, I do not 
want to fill your mind with a tissue of falsehood 
from beginning to end, as others have time and again 
done. Should any of you ever visit the land of my birth 
you will, alas, find my words too true. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 15 

The syphilitic Sodomites and Hcentious, scorbutic de- 
generates of the House of Lords have not one-half ounce 
of pure blood in their mangy cesspools, and a decent 
American would not give them access to his hogpen. 
These are the pusillanimous creatures to whom such 
sycophants as Astor cater — Astor, who renounced his 
allegiance to the noblest flag under the canopy of heaven 
for the most blood-stained one that ever floated in the 
air and polluted everything within its reach, since the 
day the Almighty God opened the Red Sea and drowned 
the Egyptians, and did not leave one of them to tell the 
tale. 

One disgusting element I found in Ireland during my 
three recent visits there, which I am proud to state is 
confined to the shopkeeper and the sycophantic govern- 
ment employee is : If either have a son, and a person 
addressing him fails to use the word "master," both will 
feel highly indignant. 

Another element in Ireland is the wealthy farmer, or, 
as he is called there, the gentleman farmer, who, I am 
sorry to state, the more he prospers the more loyal he 
becomes to the British Constitution. But thank God 
there is an element in Ireland that supersedes all this 
lickspittle element. It is the element made up of the 
honest, hard-working laborer, the artisan, the mechanic, 
the salesman, the farmer, the engine driver, the 
baker, the tailor, the shoemaker and the craftsmen in 
general. These are the men upon whom I would depend 
to make Ireland a nation, and if ever an opportunity 
presents itself my words will turn out to be true. At the 
same time I do not include all the shopkeepers and so- 



16 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

called gentlemen farmers in the disgusting element 
already spoken of; indeed, there is nothing further from 
my mind, for I have met some of both in my travels 
through Ireland whom I found ready and willing to fol- 
low in the footsteps of the illustrious Robert Emmet and 
the fearless and undaunted Theobald Wolfe Tone. 

How can Ireland expect any justice from the disciples 
of the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah except at 
the point of the sword? 

The minions of the Crown in Ireland and the American 
anglomaniac, whom I have mentioned in this preface, are 
as obnoxious to the human race as the bubonic plague 
would be to a mugwump meeting in Chicago, presided 
over by a Goo-Goo divekeeper to keep Captain Peter 
Kelly, of Newry, from being Chicago's next chief of 
police, and the Honorable Seyport from going to Con- 
gress by the popular vote. 

Just imagine the Mad Mullah of India chasing the little 
picayune Prince of Siam from post to pillar until he 
reached the Sultan of Sulu's harem in the Philippine 
Islands safe from the Mullah. If this Mullah could only 
administer a few doses of the water cure to Joe Chamber- 
lain and the English Secretary of War, he would be after 
the Crown Prince's territory when he administers a 
sound thrashing to Kitchener, the renegade Irishman. 
The Mad Mullah must be something of a cross between 
a Yap and a Cherokee Sooner, judging by the strategy 
he uses in corraling the fourpenny soldiers in the service 
of his Majesty, King Edward the Seventh. 

Ireland need never expect anything from the 
sycophantic element of the Irish race, not only in 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 17 

America, but throughout the whole world. It is, alas, too 
true that we have not only the sycophantic element 
among the Irish race in America, but also in Ireland. I 
have met J. P.'s in Ireland within the past two years who 
were afraid to attend a lecture delivered by me in aid of 
the St. Vincent de Paul Society, fearing they would lose 
the tail end of their names — the poor, cringing, crawling 
slaves upon whom England conferred titles. 

Foremost among this class is a man with two tails to 
his name, M.D. arid J. P. He is, I am told, a fortune 
seeker, being a bachelor of sixty winters. He was afraid 
of his own shadow during my sojourn in his neighbor- 
hood a year or two ago, and whenever he spoke to me 
he looked around to see if there were any of the toady 
crowd in sight to report him to the Castle for being seen 
in the company of a dynamiter. I cared very little for 
his company, as I arrived at the conclusion long ago that 
I can do without the society of such slaves, made so by 
an additional tail to their names. "An American Citi- 
zen" is all the title I want and ever look for, and I feel 
prouder of it than all the J. P.'s or M.P.'s or any other 
title that is conferred on my people by the shattered, de- 
pleted and rotten British Constitution. 

I am also sorry to have to state anent the reign of pros- 
perity that prevails in Ireland, that riches make more 
loyal subjects than poverty; at least I found it to be the 
case during my last three visits to the land of my birth. 

Before I close this preface I cannot conscientiously 
do so without paying a well-deserved tribute to my coun- 
trywomen in America as well as the world over. They, 
in my opinion, are the chosen children of God. I have 



18 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

met them in every sphere of hfe, from the drawing-room 
to the kitchen, and have found them on all occasions 
equal to the emergency. I have met Irish girls who 
worked in the kitchen to earn an honest living, but, 
thanks to God, they were pure as angels and spotless as 
roses. I have seen some of the handsomest girls that 
ever left Ireland engaged in the hardest kind of work. 
A girl's poverty is the surest sign of her purity. Sin- 
cerity and modesty are the finest traits a woman can 
possess, and I found both these traits in the Irish girls 
whom I have met during my thirty years of life in 
America. I have found them the same in Mexico, South 
America, British possessions, England, Scotland, Ireland 
and Wales. 

Every Irish mother, wherever she may be, should be 
proud of her daughter, for she is noted for her virtue and 
propriety; and her services are sought for in preference 
to those of other nationalities. 

The devotion of the Irish and Irish- American mothers 
to their children is too well known the world over for 
me to comment upon. Suffice it to say that I feel proud 
of them, from the 'longshoreman's wife to the wife of the 
judge on the bench, the former being just as high in my 
estimation as the latter. I hold the Irish girl who scrubs 
for an honest living in just as high esteem as the mil- 
lionaire's daughter who lives in luxury and has a retinue 
of servants, male and female, to wait upon her, and while 
the former may not enjoy much life in a drawing-room, 
a crown of glory awaits her in heaven. The Irish girl 
working in America never need be ashamed of her 
position in life; she may be poor, but she is honest and 



■ BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 19 

pure, and may God reward her for her good quaHties, 
if not in this world, in that bright celestial one beyond the 
clouds, where sorrow is no more and where there are no 
drawing-rooms to distinguish between the rich and the 
poor. 

I have seen my people in every walk of life all over the 
world — in the pulpit, on the bench, on the stage, at the 
bar, in the marts of trade, also in the House of Rep- 
resentatives in the National Capitol, as well as in the 
legislatures of different States, and they were possessed 
of all the necessary qualifications to fill the positions they 
occupied. 

I have heard it asserted that if Ireland were free to- 
morrow she could never govern herself. Such a state- 
ment, to my mind, is a villainous lie, and the Irishman 
who makes such an assertion is not a sincere Irishman ; 
he does not want to make any sacrifices for Irish freedom, 
nor does he want the iron grasp of the Saxon broken. 

I have still hopes within this aching mind that Ireland 
must and shall lift herself, phoenix-like, from the grave 
and take her place among the nations of the world, but 
in order to accomplish this it is absolutely necessary that 
there should be an armed force back of this parliamentary 
agitation. Let John Redmond and his colleagues work 
their way, and let the men who believe "in the sword 
alone" to obtain Ireland's freedom work their wa}^, but 
let neither of them place any obstructions in the other's 
way, and then when the time comes present a united front 
and drive the sword to the hilt in the enemies of our 
country. 

In union there is always strength ; in disunion always 



20- BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

disaster. The Irish people are the most faithful fol- 
lowers of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and also 
the most liberal contributors to Peter's Pence. They 
have built more Catholic churches than any nation in the 
world, and I trust God will not keep them in slavery for- 
ever, for they are his faithful children. The Irish race, 
though persecuted by England, is a noble one; generous 
and hospitable to a fault; every ready to help a country- 
man or countrywoman in time of need, and the greater 
part of that race longing for an opportunity to measure 
swords with the demon of all nations and despoiler of 
many homes, who would steal the Lord's Supper and 
come back for the tablecloth five minutes after. 

I believe the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah were no 
worse than the city of London is to-day. Take the his- 
tory of Cleveland street and take the history of the 
English officials in Dublin for the past fifty years. Take 
Sergeants Sheridan and Sullivan; take Wilde, Russell, 
Montgomery, Talbot and hosts of others. Their crimes 
were just as bad, and in some cases worse, than those of 
Sodom and Gomorrah. Some of the deeds of the syco- 
phantic scorbutics in high stations of life surpassed any 
deeds or acts committed by the Egyptians who were 
drowned in the Red Sea by the command of the Almighty 
God himself. Still we are granted a special dispensation 
from the Propaganda to eat meat on a certain Friday in 
honor of a man who swore that our Most Holy Father 
himself worshipped idols and that the Catholic Church 
is superstitious and that there was no transubstantia- 
tion in the Body and P>lood of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ. Here is the oath taken by King Edward VH. the 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 21 

day he ascended the throne. His mother, the late Queen 
Victoria, took the same oath on the 20th day of Novem- 
ber, 1837. 

OATH TAKEN BY KING EDWARD^ FEBRUARY 14, 1901. 

''I, Edward, do solemnly and sincerely, and in the 
presence of God, profess, testify and declare that I do 
believe that in the Sacrament of our Lord's Supper there 
is not any transubstantiation of the elements of bread 
and wine into the body and blood of Christ at or after 
the consecration thereof by any person whatsoever, and 
that the invocation or adoration of the Virgin Mary or 
any other saint and the sacrifice of the mass, as they are 
now used in the Church of Rome, are superstitious and 
idolatrous; and I do solemnly, in the presence of God, 
profess, testify and declare that I do make this declara- 
tion and every part thereof in the plain and ordinary 
sense of the words read unto me, as they are commonly 
understood by English Protestants, without any evasion, 
equivocation or mental reservation whatsoever, and with- 
out thinking that I am or can be acquitted before God or 
man of any part thereof, although the Pope or any other 
person or persons or power whatsoever should dispense 
with or annul the same or declare that it was null and 
void from the beginning." 

Remember, kind reader, Edward VII. had taken that 
oath before the Pope granted a special dispensation to 
all of his Catholic subjects to eat meat on the Friday he 
was going to be coronated, which event, however, did not 
take place on that eventful day owing to the illness of 
the man in whose honor the dispensation was granted, 



23 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

If I had got meat three times a week in Ireland I would 
not have left there thirty-three years ago, as I did, in order 
to better my condition. I look upon this dispensation from 
the Propaganda as one of the greatest insults the Irish 
Roman Catholics received from the banks of the Tiber. 
In justice to King Edward, I will not say that he is a 
bigot, but having the reputation of being a liberal-minded 
man, why in God's name did he take such an oath against 
his Catholic subjects? Of course, the English Govern- 
ment believes that the Catholic Church is founded on 
superstition, ignorance, heresy, idolatry and immorality, 
consequently we cannot expect anything better from their 
King than the abominable oath which he took when 
ascending the throne of England. 

If any government official in the United States took 
such an oath when entering office, the people would tie 
him to the windward part of something of a cross be- 
tween a bulldog and a coyote and then dump him in some 
cesspool, for he would be too obnoxious to the human 
race and would smell too bad. 

Spain forced religion down the throats of her subjects 
with the usual results — she is nearly wiped off the face 
of the earth ; a fate which she richly deserved, and she 
should have been blotted off the map of the world years 
ago. Such a fate awaits England, and just as sure as 
there is a just God she will suffer Spain's fate in the long 
run. I care not what a person's religion is — that is no 
business of mine — but a bigot I hate as I do a rattlesnake. 

I believe all persons will go to heaven when they 
leave this world except the A. P. A.'s^ and there is a 
little subterranean passageway awaiting all of them 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 23 

in hell, where there will be nothing but skulls, crossbones 
and toads and scorpions, for of all the contemptible ruf- 
fians on this earth they are the foulest reptiles that ever 
polluted this glorious land with their presence. But, 
thanks to the intelligence of the rising generation, their 
abortion is aborted, and they are now a thing of the past. 

With such men in the White Plouse as the indefatigable 
Theodore Roosevelt, they have no show in this fair land 
of ours. No decent American would associate with one 
of them. The late Pope sent his representative to Queen 
Victoria's two jubilees, and his secretary, Rampolla, 
thinks more of the King of England's big toe than he 
does of all the Irish cardinals, bishops and archbishops 
and priests in Ireland. So do all the English Cath- 
olics, from the Duke of Norfolk down to the kennel- 
keeper. If there be any decency among Englishmen, 
especially government officials, it is among the Protes- 
tants, and the same may be said of those in Ireland. 

If I were living in Ireland I would strangle a child of 
mine before I would see that child wear His Majesty's 
battleship band on his hat. I have seen many children 
wear the bands of men-of-war ships on their hats ; I have 
seen young women wearing the same kind of ornament 
in order to attract the attention of the minions of the 
Crown, but thank the Lord no decent, patriotic Irish girl 
would be seen wearing one of these emblems. A true 
Irishman would not have one in his lavatory. 

Whenever a loyal man, especially if he be a Roman 
Catholic, is either on the bench or on the jury and an 
Irishman is on trial for any offense against the Crown, 
his doom is sealed the moment the jury enters the box. 



24 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The Roman Catholic hireling is far worse than the 
Protestant hireling. I would rather have my life in the 
hands of twelve Protestants any time, for I know I need 
expect no justice at the hands of a jury selected by a 
loyal judge of the Peter-the-Packer type of Roman 
Catholic. This Peter the Packer was the judge who 
packed himself from the bar to the bench and told the 
jury that convicted Cadogan that he was guilty. I have 
mentioned the foreman of this jury, and I might add to 
what I said that this scurvy-faced, so-called commercial 
traveler is a disgrace not alone in Ireland, but to all the 
members of that craft. 

Another low creature is the professional patriot or 
faker. He would prostitute Ireland ten times a day 
for his own aggrandizement, and is always ready 
to participate in all Irish demonstrations, and is generally 
on horseback or riding in a carriage with some distin- 
guished characters on every St. Patrick's Day parade. He 
makes some of the American politicians believe that he 
controls all the Irish votes in his organization, and is 
always successful in securing a fat position from Tam- 
many Hall or some other hall on the strength of his con- 
nection with Irish affairs. The so-called faker cares no 
more for the freedom of Ireland than I do for the North 
Pole. We have another example of so-called patriots in 
America. I mean the St. Patrick's Day Irishman, who 
manages by hook or by crook to get a horse — if possible a 
gray one — and wears a green sash over his shoulders at 
the head of the procession, and looks at each corner of the 
street as the procession passes to see who is admiring 
him. Then he is never heard of for twelve months more 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 25 

until he is seen on horseback again, but if he be called 
upon to contribute to strangle landlordism, he will tell 
you that he is tired of giving to this society and that, 
when in reality he never gives a cent, but he pays five 
dollars for the use of a horse and perhaps five more for the 
loan of the sash for one day. He is the St. Patrick's Day 
Irishman — only Irish once a year just to suit the occasion. 
The Irishman who never marches in procession on St. 
Patrick's Day, but gives his mite when called on to help 
his unfortunate country is my ideal of a man. 

I have no objection to parades, but the money spent in 
America on each St. Patrick's Day for the past twenty 
years, if properly applied, would have had Irish land- 
lordism strangled and buried in oblivion forever. Think 
of it, gentle reader, there has been at least $50,000,000 
spent on St. Patrick's Day parades in the United 
States during the past forty years, and one-half of that 
amount would have sent all the landlords in Ireland, in- 
cluding absentees — the spurious spawn of Oliver Crom- 
well's bastard breed — to perdition long ago. 

Then the Irish boys and girls could remain at home 
in the country that Almighty God created for them, for 
when He made the world He made it for the benefit of the 
hviman race. I am only quoting you His own words : 

''Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea, 
Jehovah has triumphed, His people are free." 

THE OATH OF ABJURATION. 

Father Richard Shelton, Superior of the Jesuits 
in Ireland, writing to the Sacred Congregation 



26 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

in 1658, conveyed the sad intelligence that 
the persecution by Cromwell of the Irish Catholics 
was carried on with ever-increasing fury ; especially, he 
adds, ''every effort is now made to compel the Catholics, 
by exile, imprisonment, confiscation of goods and other 
penalties, to take the sacrilegious Oath of Abjuration, 
but in vain, for as yet there has not been one to take it, 
with the exception of a stranger residing in our island, 
who had acquired large possessions, and being afraid of 
losing them, and at the same time ashamed of the other 
Catholics, undertook a journey of more than two hun- 
dred miles to present himself to one of Cromwell's com- 
missaries." 

This oath, devised by Cromwell, condensed into a few 
formulas all the virulence of Puritanism against the 

Catholic tenets. It was as follows : 'T, , abhor, 

detest, and abjure the authority of the Pope, as well in 
regard of the Church in general as in regard of myself in 
particular. I firmly believe and avow that no reverence 
is due to the Virgin Mary or to any other saint in heaven, 
and that no petition or adoration can be addressed to 
them without idolatry. I assert that no worship or rev- 
erence is due to the sacrament of the Lord's Supper or 
to the elements of bread and wine after consecration, by 
whomsoever that consecration may be made. I believe 
there is no purgatory, but that it is a Popish invention ; so 
is also the tenet that the Pope can grant indulgences. I 
also firmly believe that neither the Pope nor any other 
priest can remit sins, as the Papists rave. And all this 
I swear/' etc. 

A simpler form of this Oath of Abjuration is given by 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 27 

Father Dominick de Rosario from a work published in 

England in 1653, as follows: 'T, , do reject and 

abjure the supremacy of the Roman Pontiff and assert 
that he has no jurisdiction over the Catholic Church in 
general or myself in particular. I abjure the doctrine of 
transubstantiation, purgatory and the worship of the 
crucifix or other images. I abjure, moreover, the doc- 
trine which teaches that salvation is to be procured by 
good works. This 1 swear without any gloss, equivoca- 
tion or mental reservation." 

This short form, however, was judged insufficient, and 
the more detailed and more insulting abjuration of their 
religious tenets was exacted from the Catholics of Ire- 
land. The following act of Parliament, which com- 
manded this oath to be taken, will serve to give an idea 
of the severe penalties proscribed against those who re- 
fused to take it: "It is manifest (thus runs the preamble 
of the act) that the number of Popish recusants has of 
late greatly increased in this republic owing to the negli- 
gence with which the laws are carried into execution 
against them, and that infinite dangers arise hence to dis- 
turb the public peace. * * * Wherefore, to check 
these evils, it is commanded by the authority of 
Parliament : 

''That the Grand Juries will make a diligent inquiry 
after all persons who are suspected of Popery, and have 
attained the age of 16 years, and all persons so accused 
will be obliged to present themselves at the next assizes, 
or at any quarter sessions, to make and subscribe to the 

Oath of Abjuration as follows: T, , do abjure 

and renounce the primacy of the Pope and all his pre- 



28 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

tended authority over the Church in general, and over 
myself in particular/ etc. 

''It is commanded that all justices of peace will send 
four times every year to each parish clerk to have a list 
of all persons suspected of being Popish recusants, who 
have attained their sixteenth year, and are consequently 
obliged to take the Oath of Abjuration. And that on the 
presentation of this list each justiciary shall send his 
orders to the bailiffs to summon those whose names are 
thus presented to appear personally before the judges 
at the next sessions. And if such persons do not appear 
at the next sessions to subscribe the oath it shall be pro- 
claimed in public sessions that such persons do appear 
at the following sessions. And if they do not then appear 
to take and subscribe to the Oath of Abjuration they will 
be judged to be Popish recusants and subjected to all the 
penalties that may be incurred as such. 

"That on suspicion which any justice of the peace may 
have he may summon the person whom he so suspects to 
appear at the next session, and subscribe to the Oath of 
Abjuration, under penalty of £100. And should such 
person refuse to submit to the pecuniary fine thus 
imposed on him he may be placed in custody until the 
time of sessions, and should he then refuse to take and 
subscribe to the said oath he shall be judged to be a Pop- 
ish recusant as above. 

"The Lord Protector is empowered to seize, by order 
of the Court of Exchequer, and take possession of, for 
the necessities of the republic, two-thirds of all the goods 
and chattels and property whatsoever belonging to per- 
sons so convicted each time that they refuse to subscribe 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 29 

to the said oath. Should a person, of whatsoever condi- 
tion he may be, contract marriage with one whom he 
knows to be a Popish recusant, said person will himself 
be held as such, and subject to all the penalties as above, 
till such time as he shall take and subscribe to the Oath 
of Abjuration. 

''Each justice of the peace who shall neglect his duty 
in fully carrying out this order will be fined £20; each 
parish clerk will be fined for a like neglect £10; each 
register of assizes, for each person that he omits in the 
registry, £20, and of all these fines one-half will be given 
to the accuser. That no subject of this repubHc be al- 
lowed to hear Mass at any hour whatsoever, either in their 
houses or in any other place, under penalty of £100 fine 
and six months' imprisonment, half of which fine will be 
given to the Lord Protector and the other half to the 
informer." 

Thus the penalty against all who should refuse to take 
this oath was the confiscation of two-thirds of all their 
goods, which was to be repeated each time that they 
should prove refractory. It was expected that the Cath- 
olic gentry, already reduced to poverty by continued 
exactions, would be terrified into compliance by the dread 
of absolute penury and utter ruin, which now impended 
over them. As to the poorer classes another penalty re- 
mained, slavery in the Barbadoes. In every town com- 
missaries and officers were specially deputed to receive 
this oath. 



30 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

THE MASSACRE OF WYOMING, 1778. 

The English historian Regnault, in his "Criminal His- 
tory of England," gives the following documents in ref- 
erence to the Revolutionary War : ''Hitherto the English 
Government had uttered ridiculous threats, but the means 
which it adopted were infamous. The English sought 
for allies in the wigwams of the savages and excited the 
ferocity of the Indians by offering a reward for every 
American scalp. A regular trade in human heads was 
commenced between the Indians and the English gen- 
erals. The following document will show how eagerly 
the abominable traffic was conducted, a letter from Capt. 
Crawford to Col. Haldiman, Governor of Canada, accom- 
panying eight packs of scalps : 

'' 'May it please Your Excellency, at the request of the 
Seneca chiefs, I send, herewith, to Your Excellency, 
under the care of James Boyd, eight packs of scalps, 
cured and dried, hooped and painted with all the Indian 
triumphal marks of explanation : 1. Containing forty- 
three scalps of Congress soldiers, killed in different skir- 
mishes ; these are stretched on black hoops, four inches 
in diameter; the inside of the skin painted red, with a 
small back spot to note their being killed with bullets. 
Also sixty-two of farmers, killed in their houses, the 
hoops red; the skin painted brown and marked with a 
hoe ; a black circle all around, to denote their being sur- 
prised in the night, and a black hatchet in the middle, 
signifying their being killed with that weapon. 

" '2. Containing ninety-eight of farmers, killed in their 
houses; hoops red; figure of a hoe to mark their profes- 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 31 

sion ; great white circle and sun, to show they were sur- 
prised in the daytime ; a Httle red foot, to show they stood 
upon their defense, and died fighting for their Hves and 
famiUes. 

" '3. Containing ninety-seven of farmers ; hoops green, 
to show that they were killed in the fields ; a large white 
circle with a little round mark in it for the sun, to show 
that it was in the daytime. 

" '4. Containing 102 of farmers, mixed of the several 
marks above, only eighteen marked with a little yellow 
flame to denote their being of prisoners burned alive, 
after being scalped, their nails pulled out by the roots 
and other torments. Most of the farmers appear by the 
hair to have been young or middle-aged men, there being 
but sixty-seven very gray heads among them all, which 
makes the services more essential. 

"'5. Containing eighty-eight scalps of women; hair 
long, braided in the Indian fashion, to show that they 
were mothers ; hoops blue ; skin yellow ground with little 
red tadpoles, to represent, by way of triumph, the tears 
of grief occasioned to their relations ; a black scalping 
knife or hatchet at the bottom, to mark their being killed 
with those instruments ; sixteen others, hair very gray ; 
black hoops ; plain brown color ; no marks but the short 
club or casse-tete, to show they were knocked down dead 
or had their brains beat out. 

'' '6. Containing 200 boys' scalps of various ages ; 
small green hoops ; whitish ground on the skin, with red 
tears in the middle and black bullet marks, knife, hatchet 
or club, as their deaths happened. 

" *7. Two hundred girls scalped, big and little; small 



33 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

yellow hoops, white ground ; tears, hatchet, club, scalping 
knife, as their death happened. 

'* *8. This package is a mixture of all the varieties 
above mentioned, to the number of 120, with a box of 
birch bark, containing thirty little infants' scalps of vari- 
ous sizes ; small white hoops with white ground. 

'' 'With these packs the chiefs send to Your Excellency 
the following speech, delivered by Coneiogatchie in coun- 
cil : ''Father, we send you herewith many scalps that 
you may see we are not idle friends. Father, we wish 
you to send these scalps over the water to the great King,- 
that he may regard them and be refreshed and that he 
may see our faithfulness in destroying his enemies, and 
be convinced that his presents have not been made to an 
ungrateful people." ' " 

One of the first utterances on the subject of Indians in 
the Revolutionary War is to be found in the Declaration 
of Independence, in which George III. is arraigned be- 
cause "he has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of 
our frontiers the merciless Indian savages, whose known 
rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruction of all 
ages, sexes and conditions." 

Four days after the adoption of the Declaration of 
Independence, Congress adopted an address to the people 
of Great Britain. The address to the people of Ireland, 
in which it is asserted that "the wild and barbarous sav- 
ages of the wilderness have been solicited by gifts to take 
up the hatchet against us, and instigated to deluge our 
settlements with the blood of defenseless women and 
children," was agreed to July 28, 1775. The address to 
the people of Ireland is dated May 10, 1775, the date of 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 33 

the assembling of Congress, but the address was agreed 
to July 28. 

At the commencement of the Revolution, England, 
knowing the value of the Indian in ''warfare," began buy- 
ing the chiefs of the savages. As early as July, 1775, 
John Stuart, a loyalist of Charleston, S. C, and at the 
time in the pay of England, received a letter from Gen. 
Gage, the English commander-in-chief, which contained 
instructions ''to improve a correspondence with the In- 
dians to the greatest advantage, and even when oppor- 
tunity offers make them take arms against His Majesty's 
enemies, and distress them all in your power; for no 
terms are to be kept with them; * * * in short, no 
time should be lost to distress a set of people so wantonly 
rebellious." Stuart proceeded to carry out the desires 
of his superior, and, in a letter of October 3, reported 
progress. 

From England instructions were forwarded on July 5, 
1775, by Lord Dartmouth to Col. Johnson, to "keep the 
Indians in such a state of affection and attachment to the 
King as that His Majesty may rely upon their assistance 
in any case in which it may be necessary." Previously 
Congress had sent commissioners to the various Indian 
tribes requesting them to make common cause with them 
against England, or if not willing to take up arms to at 
least remain neutral. 

When the tidings of this event reached England, Dart- 
n.iouth sent word again to Johnson as follows : "The in- 
telligence His Majesty has received of the rebels having 
excited the Indians to take a part, and of their having 
actually engaged a body of them in arms to support their 



34 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

rebellion, justifies the resolution His Majesty has taken of 
requiring the assistance of his faithful adherents, the Six 
Nations. It is, therefore, His Majesty's pleasure that you 
do lose no time in taking such steps as may induce them 
to take up the hatchet against His Majesty's rebellious 
subjects in America, and to engage them in His Majesty's 
service, upon such plan as shall be suggested by Gen. 
Gage." This work Johnson had already accomplished 
even before Dartmouth had placed the British Govern- 
ment on record as willing to employ Indians in the war. 

The attitude assumed by the British Government in the 
order of July 24 represented the position which was re- 
tained during the remainder of the war. From Halifax 
on June 7, 1776, Gen. Howe assured Lord George 
Germain that his best endeavors would be used to engage 
the Indians of the Six Nations, and he hoped by the 
influence of Col. Guy Johnson to make them useful. 
In the Fall of 1776 Germain forwarded a supply of pres- 
ents to the Indians, and called the attention of the 
generals in command to the necessity of securing their 
services. 

The greatest of all the Indian chiefs who were in the 
pay of England during the seven years of the war for 
American independence, was Joseph Brant. The Indian 
Commissioner, Col. Guy Johnson, knowing well the use 
of this savage chief, made him his secretary and sent him 
to England, where he was received by George III., in 
person, and others with consideration. After a brief stay 
Brant returned to Canada, while his memory of British 
adulation was still fresh, and at the head of his savages 
commanded at the battle of Cedar Rapids. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 35 

Soon after, Brant, to show his consideration for the 
audience with George III., led his savages to a conference 
at Cherry Valley, and there pledged the fortunes of his 
men to the service of England. Brant, now spurred on 
by British gold, led his men in attacks on defenseless 
towns, and soon ''had shown himself," to use the words 
of Col. Claus, "to be the most faithful and zealous subject 
His Majesty could have in America." He did his work 
unsparingly and ruin marked his track. 

The valley of Wyoming is one of the most romantic 
and historic localities in the country. It was a little 
town situated on the Susquehanna River, in Luzerne 
County, Pa. At the commencement of the Revolution 
the inhabitants of this peaceful town, eagerly and in large 
numbers, enlisted themselves in the army. By June, 
1776, nearly every able-bodied man of Wyoming was 
away in the service of the Continental army. In the Fall 
of 1776 two companies had been raised in the valley and 
ordered to join Washington's army. The withdrawal of 
so large a proportion of the able-bodied men as had been 
enlisted in the Continental service threw upon the old 
men and boys who were left behind the duty of guarding 
the forts. 

Repeated alarms during the Summer of 1777 com- 
pelled the young men to scour the woods, but their vigi- 
lance did not prevent some prisoners being taken by the 
Indians. In March, 1778, another military company was 
organized by Congress, to be employed for home defense. 
In May attacks were made upon the scouting parties by 
Indians, who were the forerunners of an invading army. 
The exposed situation of the settlement, the prosperity of 



36 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

the inhabitants and the loyalt}^ with which they had re- 
sponded to the call for troops excited the rage and thirst 
of the Indians and Tories. 

Such was the defenseless condition of the valley when 
an expedition of Tories and Indians, under Brant, aided 
by some English soldiers, prepared to fall upon Wyom- 
ing. The inhabitants, aged and young, and even women, 
fearing the intended attack, armed themselves, and de- 
termined to fight the Indians and the more savage Tories. 
On July 3 a council of war was held, and Col. Zebulon 
Butler was appointed commander of the small force that 
was to cope with the bloodthirsty combinations. They 
resolved to anticipate the threatened attack by marching 
against the enemy. 

Calling his faithful companions — 300 aged men and 
boys — around hini, Col. Butler thus addressed them: 
*'Men, yonder is the enemy. The fate of the Hardings 
tells us what we have to expect if defeated. We come 
out to fight not only for liberty, but for life itself, and, 
what is dearer, to preserve our homes from conflagration, 
our women and children from the tomahawk. Stand 
firm the first shock; the Indians will give way. Every 
man to his duty." 

It was about 4 o'clock, the sky cloudless, and the heat 
quite oppressive. The Americans were ordered to ad- 
vance a step at. each fire. Soon the battle became gen- 
eral, and the British left, where Col. Butler appeared, 
with a handkerchief around his head, earnestly cheering 
his men, began to give way. But a flanking party of 
Indians, which covered that wing of the enemy, and was 
concealed under some bushes upon the river bank, kept 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 37 

up a galling fire. In the meantime the Indian sharp- 
shooters along the line kept up a horrid yell, the sound 
of which reached the women and children at the fort. 

For nearly an hour the battle was waged with unceas- 
ing energy on both sides, but the vastly superior number 
of the enemy began to manifest its advantage. The In- 
dians on the American left, sheltered and half concealed 
by the swamp, succeeded in outflanking Col. Dennison, 
and fell with terrible force upon his rear. He was thus 
exposed to the cross fire of the Tories and Indians. Per- 
ceiving this he ordered his men to fall back in order to 
change his position. The order was mistaken for one of 
retreat. That word w^as uttered with fatal distinction 
along the line, and his whole division fled in confusion at 
the moment when the British left was giving way. 

A few more minutes might have given victory to the 
patriots. Col. Butler and Col. Dorrance used every exer- 
tion to rally and retrieve the loss, but in vain. Col. 
Butler, seemingly unconscious of danger, rode along the 
lines exposed to the fire, beseeching his troops to remain 
firm. "Don't leave me, my children !" he exclaimed, "and 
the victory is ours !" But it was too late ; the Indians 
leaped forward like wounded tigers. Every American 
captain that led a company into action was slain at the 
head of his men. Longer resistance was vain, and the 
whole American line, broken, shattered and dispersed, 
fled in confusion. 

The scene that ensued was terrible indeed. A party of 
Indians rushed forward to cut off the retreat, while the 
rest, following the main army, who fled through the fields 
of grain toward Monocasy Island, slaughtered them by 



38 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

scores. Many who could not swim and hesitated upon 
the brink of the river, were shot down, and others, who 
hid themselves in bushes upon the shore, were dragged 
out and shot or tomahawked, regardless of their cry for 
quarter. Many swam to Monocasy Island, whither their 
pursuers followed and hunted them like deers in cover. 
Others were shot while swimming, and some who were 
lured back to the shore by promises of quarter were 
butchered without mercy. Of the 300 who went that 
morning, the names are recorded of 162 officers and men 
killed in the action or in the massacre which followed. 
Major Butler, the British officer in command, reported 
the taking of "227 scalps and only five prisoners." Only 
a few escaped to the eastern side of the river and fled in 
safety to the mountains. 

"Fort Niagara," says the historian Lossing, in reciting 
further details of the massacre, "was a British post, the 
common rallying place of Tories and savages, of refugees 
and vagabonds. And here many a dark deed of venge- 
ance was planned. In June a party sailed forth, 1,200 
strong, composed of desperadoes and Indians, who, 
after laying waste the country on the route, descended 
upon the fair settlement of Wyoming, massacring its 
inhabitants in the most brutal and fiendish manner. 

"The able-bodied male population — 1,000 — were 
chiefly away in the army; Col. Butler, officer in the 
Continental army, was home on a furlough and gathered 
the old men and boys. But his force, all told, mustered 
less than three hundred, and the horde of invaders, more 
than twice as numerous, knew the woods well and had 
come to destroy and deal death, not to recover and hold. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION, 39 

In the engagement nine-tenths of the heroic defenders 
were killed and scalped. 

"The English commander boastfully reported having 
burned 1,000 houses and every mill in the valley. He 
omitted to state that in several instances old men, women 
and children were shut into the buildings and all con- 
sumed together; or that monsters in human shape — the 
Tories — painted like Indians, took the lives of persons 
with diabolical fury. A horrified group of survivors fled 
through a pass in the hills to the eastern settlements. 
Then the bloodthirsty marauders left the smoking scene 
of solitary desolation and turned toward the region of 
Rochester to continue their terrible work." 

"After the savages had completed their work of 
slaughter in the field," says Giraudin, "they immediately 
proceeded to invest Fort Kingston, to which Col. Den- 
nison had fled with the small remnant of Butler's troops 
and the defenseless women and children. In such a state 
of weakness the defense of the fort was out of the ques- 
tion, and all that remained to Dennison was to attempt to 
gain some advantageous terms by the offer of surrender. 
For this purpose he went himself to the savage chief 
(Brant) ; but that inhuman monster, that Christian can- 
nibal in the pay of England, replied to the question of 
terms that he should grant them the hatchet. 

"He was more than true to his word, for when, after 
resisting until all his garrison were killed or disabled, 
Col. Dennison was compelled to surrender at discretion, 
his merciless conqueror, tired of scalping, and finding the 
slow process of individual murder insufficient to glut his 
appetite, shut up all that remained in the houses and 



40 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

barracks, and by the summary aid of fire reduced all at 
cnce to one promiscuous heap of ashes. Nothing now 
remained that wore the face of resistance to these savage 
invaders but the little fort of Wilkesborough, into which 
about seventy of Col. Butler's men had effected their 
retreat. 

"These with about the same number of Continental 
soldiery, constituted its whole force, and when the enemy 
appeared before them they surrendered without even ask- 
ing conditions, under the hope that their voluntary 
obedience might find some mercy. But mercy dwelt not 
in the bosoms of these savages and Tories; submission 
could not stay their insatiable thirst of blood. The 
cruelties and barbarities which were practiced upon these 
unresisting soldiers were even more wanton, if possible, 
than those which had been exhibited at Fort Kingston. 
These seventy Continental soldiers were deliberately 
butchered in cold succession ; and then a repetition of the 
same scene of general and promiscuous conflagration 
took place which had closed the tragedy at the other fort. 
Men, women and children were locked up in the houses 
and left to mingle their cries and screams with the flames 
that mocked the power of an avenging God." 

Thomas Campbell, in his well-known poem, "Gertrude 
of Wyoming," describes the conflict. An Oneida Indian 
has just announced to two of the characters in the story 
the expected attack, and the poem continues thus: 

"Scarce had he uttered when heaven's verge extreme 
Reverberates the bomb's descending star, 

And sounds that mingled laugh, and shout, and scream, 
To freeze the blood in one discordant jar. 



' BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 41 

Rung to the pealing thunderbolts of war. 

Whoop after whoop with rack the ear assailed, 

As if unearthly fiends had burst their bar; 
While rapidly the marksman's shot prevailed, 
And aye, as if for death, some lonely trumpet wailed. 

Then looked they to the hills, where fire o'erhung. 

The bandit groups in force were there. 
Or swept, far seen, the tower, whose clock unrung 

Told legible that midnight of despair. 




42 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 



TAMMANY. 

Tammany Hall called the baboons and chimpanzees in 
Central Park O'Briens and Murphys, instead of Hewitts, 
Ernests and McArthurs, disciples of the convent burners. 
That, indeed, was not very complimentary to the Irish 
voters and taxpayers of America. Irish-American voters 
defeated James G. Blaine for the Presidency of the United 
States because Tammany wanted a man who acknowl- 
edged that he was a sworn member of the United Order 
of American Mechanics, the spurious spawn of the old 
Know Nothing Party that burned the convent in 
Charlestown, Mass., with nine Sisters of Charity 
inside its walls. Yes, and the sister of the man who 
was sent to the White House by Irish-American voters 
instead of James G. Blaine wrote a book assailing the 
good, pure Sisters of Charity, no doubt because the years 
of her spinsterhood were a foregone conclusion. 

Blaine's opponent was England's choice as well as 
Tammany's. Tammany would support Judas Iscariot 
against Robert Emmet, provided the former believed in 
the democracy founded by Tammany, not by Jefferson. 

Tammany or its disciples never supported any Irish- 
man for office, no matter how menial that office was, and 
still the organization claims a mortgage on every Irish- 
man's vote the minute he becomes naturalized. When 
Gen. Thomas Francis Burk ran for Congress in New 
York City, Tammany defeated him and elected in his 
place a German. Burk's only crime was that he was cap- 
tured in Ireland with arms in his hands fighting against 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 43 

England. He was sentenced to be hanged, drawn and 
quartered; later his sentence was commuted. He was 
released and came to America, ran for Congress, was 
defeated by Tammany, who elected Nicholas Miiller. 
This is only one instance of Tammany's perfidy. 

No Irishman can obtain either a municipal or Federal 
position in the City of New York and retain it any length 
of time if he be known to be a member of any Irish revo- 
lutionary organization, as John Bull is as predominant in 
New York as he is in London. Take, for instance, the 
case of O'Donovan Rossa, who spent the best years of 
his manhood behind prison bars, and who wore chains 
for his beloved country, and who now carries the hired 
assassin's bullet in his body for advocating the destruc- 
tion of the rotten British Empire by any means available 
— the use of dynamite, Greek fire, osmic acid or any other 
fire or acid within the reach of Irishmen, every one 
of which the writer would use against England and with- 
out any more conscientious scruples than the English 
Government had when women and children were bay- 
oneted in the streets of Clonakilty; yes, and even the un- 
born babes were taken from their mothers' wombs and 
carried on bayonets through the streets. 

O'Donovan Rossa could not get a dollar-a-day job 
in New York to-day from Tammany Hall or any other 
hall on account of his connection with Irish aflfairs, not- 
withstanding the fact that the majority of the Sachems of 
Tammany Hall are either Irish or Irish descent. Rossa 
is too bad a man (in the opinion of the Anglo-maniac poli- 
ticians), but how many men holding ofhce in New York 
City were tried for wilful murder? Let Orange Croker 



44 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

answer the question, if he can spare the time, for he is 
now hobnobbing with the Enghsh nobihty. 

If Rossa were not a staunch Irishman before his im- 
prisonment, how in heaven's name could EngHsh prisons 
make him an Irishman? He was just as sterHng an 
Irishman forty years ago as he is to-day, but he would 
not be a participant in ballot-box stuffing, consequently 
no Irishman of his type need apply for political position 
in New York City. Even 'the son of the ilustrious John 
Mitchell wa^ "thrown down" by English influence in the 
"great Irish city" of America. Thank God ! I never 
wanted a position from either of the New York govern- 
ments. I would rather fill a grave in Potter's Field than 
cater to a New York politician for a job. 

No doubt Tammany will be doing business at the same 
old corrupt stand when I am in my grave ; and when 
O'Donovan Rossa will have been canonized saint, Tam- 
many may exist and English influence predominate, and 
St. Patrick's Day Irishmen may ride gray horses and wear 
green sashes; but the disciples of Robert Emmet, Wolfe 
Tone, O'Donovan Rossa, John Mitchell, Charley Doran, 
etc., will also be living and will be held in more esteem 
than all the politicians that existed since the burning of 
the convent in Charlestown by the Know Nothing Party, 
and the Cellar Brigade, the A. P. As., who tried to defeat 
Theodore Roosevelt for Governor of New York State, 
and who advocated the practice of polygamy in Utah 
under our glorious banner established by the Father of 
our country, the illustrious George Washington. 

Ever since New York had an A. P. A. mayor this kind 
of corruption has existed in politics. Roll on ye caterers 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 45 

to toadyism ! Roll on and give John Bull what he asks 
for in 3^our great city. Keep Irishmen who swore to free 
their country from the grasp of British tyranny out of 
your ranks. Make room for the Crokers and Dudleys, 
the Everetts and the Hays, and keep out the Mitchells, 
the Rossas and the Costellos ; they are too antagonistic to 
British influence in your great cosmopolitan City of New 
York. Supplant them with Hewitts, McArthurs, Myers, 
Rainsfords; give all these gentlemen (?) platform seats, 
as the "pit" is good enough for the Fords, the Roaches 
and the Finnertys. They are all *'red-hot" Irishmen and 
do not know how to colonize quarters or stuff ballot 
boxes. And they call this Jeffersonian Democracy! Go 
vora Dhia Lin. 

The Choate politicians of the Westminster type are 
always welcome in New York. The Irish or Irish- 
American School Commissioners should compel such 
A. P. A. teachers as Ernest (of public school fame) to 
teach pupils true American history instead of tearing 
down Erin's emblem, and from the clothes of the children 
of a New York police captain, too! With such sewer 
rats filling municipal positions in our great city, is it any 
wonder that decent people should be disgusted with New 
York office holders? 

Thirty thousand paraders marching to the music of Ger- 
man bands, and their colors torn from the clothes of little 
innocent children, and the little picayune bigot of an abor- 
tion or miscarriage is still allowed to do business at the 
old stand, with all the Irish taxpayers of New York con- 
tributing to keep him there — tha go bra. 

Yes, and the boys who wear the sashes on the ITth of 



46 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

March elected an A. P. A. Mayor of New York, one of 
whose first official acts of gratitude to his Irish con- 
stituents was to order down Erin's flag on St. Patrick's 
Day. Were Hodgins of age and "running for office" he 
would be defeated by the rowdy element of the different 
wards of this city, despite the lad's manly resistance 
against an unprincipled, bigoted pedagogue, who in all 
probability could not quote four lines of America's 
national anthem. I doubt if he would be able to tell 
when Columbus was born, but undoubtedly he would be 
able to tell where the defunct A. P. A. held forth pre- 
vious to their abortion. 

Bravo, young Hodgins ! You are a credit to the 
mother who bore you, and should you ever "run for of- 
fice" in your native city you will have my humble vote 
and support. I care not whether you "run" on the 
Democratic or Republican ticket; you are possessed of 
the right mettle, and in all probability if you were a few 
years older this little rat would not have things his own 
way. I only wish all Irish-Americans were of your way 
of thinking. 

The Hewitts, the Crokers and the A. P. Apes — termed 
Pusillanimous Aggregation of American Asses — whose 
abortion is now placarded everywhere, from Maine to 
California, in their favorite meeting places — the lava- 
tories — before Price, the stationery dealer of San Fran- 
cisco, went to San Quentin for sending obscene literature 
through the mails. 

Price peached on another A. P. Ape engaged in the 
same hellish business, thinking he could have a corner 
in the filthy reading and form an A. P. A. trust on a small 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 47 

scale, but he was caught in his own trap and wore chains 
for the Apes for two years and six months (a just reward 
for his perfidy). He was not only a licentious black- 
guard, but also an informer. He and the satchel doctors 
are no acquisition to our American institutions. Yet 
these are the people who shout aloud in their cellars: 
"Avaunt, you foreigners ! Go back to where you came 
from. We want no foreigners here, especially Papists." 
Still the Apes murder the innocent babes before they are 
born and also stab in the back whenever they get a chance. 

One man whom we should all highly appreciate is living 
in the White House — a man, not a politician, and one who 
is as free from bigotry as the Atlantic Ocean is of small- 
pox; consequently he is as obnoxious to the Apes as a 
plague at a camp meeting. The McArthurs, who are nor 
even citizens of this glorious land, and their followers are 
pushed to the front by Irish-American voters of New 
York. How long, O Lord, how long is this state of affairs 
to last? Ye Gods! How easily the Irish-American voters 
of this great metropolis are gulled. The bait is thrown 
out to them by the Crokers, and they bite every time. 

The principles of the Democracy founded by Thomas 
Jefferson are as different from those of Tammany Hall 
as a chimpanzee is superior to the A. P. Apes in both 
quality and quantity — the one will fight fairly, with his 
face to the enemy, while the other will stab in the back. 

The Roman Catholic votes of New York elected an 
A. P. A. Mayor, and, strange to say, all the A. P. A.'s 
forming the dark lantern brigade take a solemn and 
binding oath never to support a Roman Catholic ''run- 
ning for any ofiice," no matter how menial. Think of 



48 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

this, you sash bearers and Crokerites. Think of the time 
when you defeated Henry George, when Dr. McGlynn 
was suspended through the instrumentaHty of Tammany 
Hall for supporting him against the A. P. A. candidate 
who helped to put the rope around the brave and fearless 
Patrick O'Donnell, who shed his blood in defense of our 
glorious Union. 

I was on the floor of the House of Representatives 
in Washington when Hewitt took the resolutions out 
of Capt. Ed. O'Meagher Condon's hand and told 
Condon they were too strong: that they should be modi- 
fled. He then wrote out some kind of resolutions and 
presented them. Carlisle, who was at that time Speaker 
of the House, recognized Hewitt, and the resolutions were 
passed; that same day on the way from the National 
Capitol Hewitt stopped at the British Minister's (Sack- 
ville West's) house and apologized for what he had 
done. 

John Finerty, of Chicago, was Congressman at that 
time, and he did his best to save poor O'Donnell ; so did 
Richelieu Robinson, but all of no avail. John Bull 
was supreme in Washington in those days. O'Don- 
nell was hanged and the man who helped hang him 
was a few years later elected A. P. A. Mayor of New 
York by the men who wear green sashes and ride gray 
horses on St. Patrick's Day, and allow a school teacher 
(no doubt Saxonized in some kind of a British workshop) 
to tear the shamrocks ofl^ Capt. Hodgin's little son's 
clothes. Well, well ! And McPartland still lives under cover 
like Rody the Rover, forming secret societies and putting 
up dirty jobs; and Sheridan, the confessed mutilator of 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 49 

dumb beasts, is allowed an asylum under the banner of 
the free. Wonders will never cease. Justitia fiat autem 
solse revolatit. 

When O 'Donovan Rossa ran for State Senator in New 
York he was lawfully elected, but counted out by Irish- 
American Tammany office holders, who counted in a 
man since sentenced to thirteen years in a New York 
State penitentiary, and who died wearing a convict's garb. 

God save Ireland! 




50 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 



FAREWELL TO IRELAND. 

On the sixteenth day of August, in eighteen sixty- 
eight, 

1 left my native Ireland, being forced to emigrate. 

The rents and taxes were too high, at home I could 
not stay; 

So I heaved a sigh and said ''Good-by; I'm going far 
away." 

The thought of leaving home, and while in my boy- 
hood years. 

Caused me to weep — but not through fear — some very 
bitter tears. 

On board the good ship Denmark we ploughed the raging 
sea. 

With hearts and spirits light and gay for the land of 
liberty. 

While passing by die Fastnet Rock, convenient to Cape 
Clear, 

I saw the hills around my home and shed a silent tear. 

On deck that night I made a vow I'd be to Ireland true. 

And greater grew my love for her while on the ocean 
blue. 

While on the broad Atlantic I thought of all her woes, 

And bitter grew my hatred for her ruthless, cruel foes ; 

Though I was but a youngster, not yet quite eighteen, 

I longed to be a Fenian and wear a suit of green. 

So when I landed in New York to headquarters I did 
steer, 

And there I saw the captain and became a volunteer. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 51 

At Pigeon Hill soon after we raised our flag of green, 
One May, the twenty- fourth, the birthday of England's 

Queen. 
How it ended in disaster it is needless now to tell ; 
How the base LeCaron sold us and the flag of Ireland 

fell. 
O'Neill was our commander, a soldier brave was he, 
Who fought beneath the Stars and Stripes, the colored 

folk to free. 
Since then IVe been a wanderer 'neath the red, the white 

and blue. 
But to that land that gave me birth I always will be true. 
I've been in California, and down in Mexico, 
Montana and Wyoming and also Idaho; 
Though I've traveled many lands there's none so dear 

to me 
As that persecuted little isle that sparkles in the sea. 
The vilest reptiles of this earth lay claim to Irish soil, 
While the bone and sinew of our race for them do daily 

toil; 
The ill-got gains of Cromwell's race in vile debauch are 

spent, 
While the sons and daughters of the Gael across the sea 

are sent 
To seek a home 'mong strangers far, far from mother's 

care. 
Some destined ne'er to see again their native isle so fair. 
I never shall forget when I bade mother dear good-by. 
The sad expression on her face when she began to cry. 
"You're going far away," said she, " 'tis sad to part 

with you, 



52 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Your father's heart is breaking, alas! what shall I do?" 
She said her daily prayers would be to see again once 

more 
Beside her by the old fireside her bauchail baan astoir. 
The following year a letter came which brought sad news 

to me, 
My father he was dying, far, far across the sea ; 
He thought that he would die in peace if he could see 

again 
The boy who left a year ago to sail across the main. 
When I received that letter I said I wouldn't wait, 
I went aboard a ship next day, alas ! it was too late. 
That face my father longed to see he never did see more, 
For he was in his silent grave before I reached the shore ; 
And mother died some years ago — they're buried in one 

grave 

On an Irish hillside by the sea, may peace be theirs I 

crave. 
Their boy is now a full-grown man, whose night thoughts 

often fly 
To Ardfield Graveyard on that hill where both my parents 

lie. 
And now a girl of Irish race has won my hand and heart, 
And won my vows to cherish her till death us both would 

part ; 
In Brooklyn I am living, with wife and children dear, 
But all along for Ireland's cause I am a volunteer; 
And would again go to the front, there is no change in 

me; 
I'm willing as I was of yore to strike for liberty. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 53 

Though years since then are passed away and marked 
upon my brow, 

I've ne'er forgotten Innisfail, I'm thinking of her now. 

Sad is it to have to part from all we loved so well, 

And sad to say to all we loved the parting word "fare- 
well"; 

With my new love are now my thoughts, anear or far 
away — 

That girl that I love dearly in Hart street, near Broadway. 



BANTRY BAY. 

I'm thinking now of ninety-eight, and sadly do bewail 
The fate of those who left their homes for Bantry to set 

sail. 
There was one among them to Irishmen well known, 
Whose memory soon we'll celebrate — the martyred, brave 

Wolfe Tone. 
Tis sad to think of those dear scenes in distant climes 

away, 
Where first I played upon the green at dear old Bantry 

Bay. 

When last I saw my native town surrounded by her hills, 
I thought of all her glories, her sorrows and her ills ; 
Her maids so fair with rosy cheeks, most charming to be- 
hold, 
Anear or far it is well known, by every one adored. 



54 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Those childhood days of happiness I think of night and 

day, 
And memory fills this aching heart for dear old Bantry 

Bay. 

Dear native town, no tongue can tell how dear you are 

to me. 
And would to God that I could strike a blow to set you 

free. 
If e'er I visit you again I hope that it will be 
To drive the Saxons from our land and fight for liberty. 
Jer. Mullin and McCarthy, Bill Downing and O'Shea 
Would rally round our flag of green at dear old Bantry 

Bay. 

Now in a foreign country, 'mid scenes and faces new, 
My heart flies back to you, dear town, so gentle, kind and 

true. 
How well do I remember your Main street and your 

quay. 
Your public square and cove so grand and Saxon 

Battery ; 
Your illustrious sons and daughters, T can for them 

proudly say 
That they never feared a redcoat at dear old Bantry 

Bay. 

Dear native hills and valleys, where in childhood I did 

roam, 
I think of you in distant climes far from the dear old 

home; 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 55 

Though in a foreign country, I love you more and more. 
And bless the hours that I have spent with you in days 

of yore. 
Oh ! how I long my bark to steer and hear the lookout say, 
''There on the lee the land I see near dear old Bantry 

Bay." 

Bold Doheny, in forty-eight, an outlawed man was he, 
Close to your town he wrote that song called "Cushla 

GalMachree." 
There was another Irishman who once was light and airy, 
Who fought with Gen. John O'Neill, his name is Pat 

O'Leary ; 
He fought in far-off Canada at the Battle of Ridgeway, 
And showed John Bull what he could do for dear old 

Bantry Bay. 

Now fare 3''ou well, dear Bantry, likewise Glengariff's 

shore. 
Perhaps that I am destined to see your face no more. 
Though in a foreign country, for you I'll always mourn. 
And with a change of government to you I would return. 
Your sons and daughters then so merrily would say. 
Welcome from Columbia to dear old Bantry Bay. 

Your maidens and your matrons with smiles of purity 
Are a credit to that ancient town wherever they may be ; 
Your bronzed and rugged boatmen, how well their crafts 

they steer 
Before the wind with all sail free from Whiddy to Cape 

Clear. 



56 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

My fondest hope is that they may see the dawn of free- 
dom's day, 
And freemen all on land and sea in dear old Bantry Bay. 

Glengariff and famed Keimaneigh are places I know 

well, 
The Priest's Leap and Cohomola where patriots do dwell ; 
Durrus and Dunboy Castle, where Philip nobly fought 
Against the Saxon hirelings whose lives he dearly sought. 
Famed castle town of old renown enchantingly doth lay, 
Where O'Sullivan Beare did the English scare in dear old 

Bantry Bay. 



THOUGHTS OF THE FENIAN DAYS. 

When I left home in sixty-eight to cross the deep blue 

sea, 
Good men and true were living then who'd fight for 

liberty ; 
We had no Land League in those days, though tyrants 

quaked with fear. 
When the manhood of old Erin's Isle to fight would 

volunteer. 
The bone and sinew of our race were ready at the call. 
To strike for home and liberty with musket, blade and 

ball; 
Doran brave and Dillon, Murphy and O'Neill, 
With their beds upon the heather and brightly shining 

steel. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 57 

In those good old days the landlords sought protection 

night and day, 
For the Fenians were the leaguers then preparing for the 

fray; 
The barracks were made bullet-proof, the Peelers to 

protect, 
For a volley from the 1. R. B. they hourly did expect. 
Such men as Captain Mackey and Kilclooney, Crowley 

too, 
Rossa and O'Mahoney for tyrants made it blue ; 
Their preaching and their teaching made Irishmen unite. 
For they were willing at that time to fight with all their 

might. 

Alas, the time has changed since then, we have no army 
now, 

The people seem contented and to Land Leaguers do 
bow; 

Do they forget the centuries of torture and of hate, 

The murder of our people in good old ninety-eight? 

The babes and mothers murdered from morning till sun- 
down. 

Their brains bespattered in the streets of Clonakilty town ? 

The best and bravest of our race were banished far and 
wide 

And forced to leave their happy homes upon the green 
hillside. 

Can Irishmen forget such acts and now contented be. 
And think that agitation will set old Ireland free? 



58 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The sword alone will wrest our rights the Saxon knows 

full well, 
For he has dealt us blows as foul, aye, blows as black as 

hell. 
Then why should we give up the cause for which our 

fathers died? 
Nay ! Strike for home with shot and shell, by them we 

should abide. 
So, Irishmen, get ready, renew once more the fight, 
To strike for home and liberty should be your heart's 

delight. 

All traitors to our sacred cause no quarter should be 

given. 
But should be hounded night and day and from old 

Ireland driven. 
Should they refuse to fall in line, like traitors they should 

die. 
With scarce a minute's warning upon a gallows high. 
I see no reason why our isle in bondage now should be, 
We should unite with all our might and strike for liberty. 
The Leaguers and the Fenians should join with heart and 

hand 
And deal John Bull that longed-for blow through all the 

dear old land. 

The North and South should now unite and both stand 

side by side, 
And think of God and country and cast their creeds aside. 
The orange and the green as their emblems should 

entwine, 



. BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 59 

And shake their hands for Ireland's cause once more 
across the Boyne. 

When England hears of unity the "sponge" she will 
throw down, 

And give us what she stole from us in valley, hill and 
town. 

Then the union of the Irish race will ring from shore to 
shore, 

And then the Orange and the Green be friends for ever- 
more. 



ON LEAVING IRELAND. 

Oh, why must I reluctantly from you, dear land, depart, 
And cross the wild Atlantic with a heavy, aching heart? 
The rich are traitors to your cause and loyal to the Crown, 
But soon, thank God, we'll take our stand and tear their 

colors down. 
Too long we've borne the alien yoke, too long the Saxon 

chain, 
But now this yoke we do defy, we'll rend it soon in twain. 
The sons and daughters of the Gael united now doth 

stand, 
And bid defiance to John Bull and his Iscariot band. 

Chorus. 
The government J, P.'s and dispensary M. D.'s 
Are loyal to King Edward like some of the M. P.'s. 
Avaunt ! I say, you're knaves, you are traitors ; you are 

slaves 
And you should never have the chance to lie in freemen's 

Sfraves. 



60 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. . 

In Ireland I found, since I came from 'cross the sea, 
The tradesmen and mechanics all willing to be free ; 
The laborer and the farmer who toil the live-long day, 
Working for the Plunderer who their hearts' blood drains 

away. 
These are the men to fall in line prepared to do or die, 
And now are waiting one and all to hear the battle cry^ 
"Faugh-a-Ballagh" is our watchword, the hour is nigh at 

hand 
To strike a blow for liberty to free the dear old land. 

The squireens and the shoneens who are praying for old 

King Ned, 
And Peter the 'Tacker" on the bench with wig upon his 

head ; 
The parson and the Peeler and a shopkeeper or two 
Are traitors to our sacred cause when now they should 

be true. 
Alas ! Alas ! that they were bred upon my native soil 
To help the marauders our happy homes to spoil ; 
But there is a day of reckoning, thank God it's near at 

hand, 
When we will banish all of them from out our native 

land. 

I found the rich were willing slaves and wanted 

monarchy, 
Afraid they'd lose their ill-got gains if Ireland should be 

free. 
To see these cringing starvelings, slaves, when the fleet 

came to town, 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 61 

Begging for the patronage of minions of the Crown. 
Some wearing bands upon their hats of England's King 

and Queen, 
Who murdered Robert Emmet for the love he bore the 

green. 
Think of the Irish girl who is forced to leave her home 
And in a foreign land, among strangers, there to roam. 



LEAVING HOME. 



Alas! Alas! in foreign lands six thousand miles from 

home. 
Thinking of my native hills in distant climes to roam ; 
I left your fertile plains, asthore, when I was young in 

years, 
And when I kissed a mother dear she wiped away her 

tears. 
I left her with a broken heart to travel far away ; 
Heart and brain with care oppressed I sailed from Bantry 

Bay. 

I left one Sunday morning before the signal gun ; 
'Twas there my many troubles and sorrows had begun. 
As I sailed out of the harbor I whispered a farewell 
To the sun-kissed hills and meadows green and daisies in 

the dell ; 
The little birds ne'er sang so sweet as did they on that 

day 
When I left home and kindred and sailed from Bantry 

Bay. 



62 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

As I sailed in the little craft that took me out to sea, 
'Twas then I prayed to God above my country to set free ; 
There is no reason she should be in bondage all these 

years, 
Bleeding from her many wounds and shedding bitter 

tears. 
She is as fair as other lands and trying night and day 
To raise the Green above the Red in dear old Bantry Bay. 



Although out in the great Far West with plenty all 

around, 
Fd rather live in Ireland, my own dear native ground. 
'Tis true there's wealth galore out here and plenty and 

to spare, 
But give to me old Erin's Isle, none with her can 

compare. 
I know her fields are fresh and green, but she does 

in bondage lay. 
And that's the reason I left home and sailed from Bantry 

Bay. 



As I roam these wild prairies and mountains of the West, 
My thoughts fly o'er the billows to the land that I love 

best ; 
Though oceans roll between us, you're ever dear to me, 
I'll ne'er forget my native hills for any country. 
Your sons and daughters they are brave at home or far 

away, 
And always will be dear to me far, far from Bantry Bay. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 63 

Why should the wandering Celt forget his home beyond 

the sea, 
The Lifify and Blackwater, the Shannon and the Lee, 
Killarney and Glengariff, Avoca and Dunlow, 
The pass of Keimaneigh, where yoemen were laid low? 
These places all are dear to me, though I am far away, 
Yet still my heart flies back once more to dear old Bantry 

Bay. 



A DREAM OF HOME. 

I had a dream the other night of my home beyond the sea, 

I thought I saw our green flag float, and that triumph- 
antly ; 

I though old Ireland was free, and that from shore 
to shore. 

And all the minions of the Crown law weltering in their 
gore. 

The boys and girls were marching beneath our Irish 
green, 

And fife and drum were sounding defiantly, I ween. 

Parnell and Mitchell I saw there with Emmet by their 
side ; 

Rossa and brave Doran, old Ireland's joy and pride. 

Allen, Larkin and O'Brien, wdth Mackey in the van, 

Brave John O'Neill, of Ridgeway fame, a valiant Irish- 
man. 

I thought that I was close by him once more at Pigeon 
Hill, 

Where Booker met his Waterloo and was retreating still. 



64 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The redcoats were all routed and driven to despair, 
They numbered six to one of us, but with us could not 

compare. 
Tim Cadogan I thought I saw the night before he died. 
Defying the judge and jury packed — he was both true and 

tried. 

Mike Barrett bold, of Clerkenwell, McClure and Crowley, 

too, 
Joe Brady and Dan Curley and Fitzharris brave and true ; 
Corydon and Massy were with Talbot down below, 
With skulls and toads and crossbones, with us they had 

no show. 
James Stevens gazed upon the crowd and told them one 

and all, 
Old Ireland was a nation now and ne'er again should fall. 
He called his comrades to his side and thus to them did 

say, 
"No more we'll fear the Saxon foe from Down to Bantry 

Bay." 

Tim Sheehy, Flor McCarthy, Collins and Jack Shea, 
Bob Saunders and O'Leary were foremost in the fray; 
Costigan and Canty, Tim Hurley and Taboo, 
O'Leary and his stalwart sons to Ireland's always true. 
O'Connor's yacht was sailing around Whiddy's ancient 

isle. 
With the green flag and the shamrock, the emblem of our 

isle. 
O'Donovan gave three hearty cheers for home and 

fatherland, 
Saying, "We must hold our own against any Saxon 

band." 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 65 

O'Shea and Con O'Mahoney were marching through the 

street, 
Young Buckley and Bill Goggin together all did meet; 
Bill was riding on a horse as he marched through the 

town, 
When Cotter raised above the red the harp without the 

crown. 
Gilhooley gazed upon the cro\yd, saying, "What a 

glorious day, 
The Saxon we have now subdued and him must keep at 

bay." 
In unity there's always strength, now we must do or die 
Before we'll yield to any power but that of God on high. 

The boats were in the harbor and all was there serene. 
The Union Jack was in the dust replaced by Ireland's 

Green. 
The Peelers looked forlorn, each wore a scowl or frown, 
W^hen they thought of all the happy homes that they had 

helped to down. 
To see them gaze upon the flag that now was in the mire, 
They looked like Mickey Free, a Massy or sham squire. 
They'll have to leave old Ireland, no more to curse her 

soil, 
For sword and gun take pick and spade and live by honest 

toil. 

Rick Burke and Captain Kelly, Father Crowley and 

O'Shea, 
Drove the English hirelings from Cork to Bantry Bay. 



66 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

And when their bullets all were spent with bayonet at the 

foe they went, 
Cheering loud to chill their hearts, ''From Chicago we 

were sent!" 
Now, Burke told Kelly, ''Clear the way and drive the 

toadies to the bay!" 
Kelly shouted back with might, "Burke and Shea, keep up 

the fight !" 
The Saxon foe was kept at bay, 'twas done by Kelly, 

Burke and Shea. 



KILLARNEY. 

I left Glengariff's lovely vale and rugged sons so 

brawny, 
O'Sullivan drove the coach-and-four that took me to 

Killarney ; 
Doctor Powell and stately wife were in the caravan 
As we passed by old "Slievnagoil," the home of chief and 

clan; 
"Cromwell's Bridge" we saw that day, an antique granite 

arch. 
The "Forests" and the craggy brakes where he applied 

the torch; 
The lake down in the valley, the wild deer and the doe. 
The ruined halls of bygone days where chieftains were 

laid low. 

O'Sullivan's and McSwiney's homes and ruined castle 

walls. 
We saw along the route that day, all caused by Saxon 

laws, 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 67 

For Cromwell's soldiers plundered us with carabine and 

torch 
And spread but desolation along their blood-stained 

march. 
As we went up the incline we saw down in the glen 
The place where Michael Doheny was outlawed with 

his men; 
From there he sailed away to France despite a "Lordly 

mien" ; 
Love of Ireland was his crime and hate for England's 

Queen. 

Philip "Brave" O'Sullivan of Bantry and of Beare, 
Yourself and bold McGeohegan the English once did 

scare, 
And held the "Fort" where forty men, ignoring Don Juan, 
Kept the English all at bay, McGeohegan in the van; 
He tried to reach the "Magazine," his blood flowing fast 

away. 
But lost his life for Fatherland and famed Glengariff's 

Bay. 
With heavy heart I gazed that day with bloodhounds on 

the track. 
And oft you'd hear in Cromwell's days the howling of his 

pack. 

To travel o'er these mountain scenes from Glengariff to 

Kenmare, 
The "Priest's Leap" and the tunnel, none with them can 

compare ; 
When the "Peep-o'-Day" and "White Boys" and men 

of ninety-eight, 



68 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

With crude and ancient weapons defied the King and 

State. 
Though their beds were on the heather they kept the foe 

at bay, 
And some are eager as of yore preparing for the fray ; 
The rugged sons of Kerry, of Beare and famed Bantry, 
No rest can get by day or night till Ireland is free. 

Now as we reached the Kerry line, its barren rocks and 

brakes. 
We see beyond us on the lea Killarney's lovely lakes ; 
The Eagle's Nest and Mountain Pass now loom up in 

the shade, 
Dunloe's famed gap and tunnels, too, by nature there 

were made. 
I plucked the heather on the hill for Chester's lovely lady, 
The charming wife of Doctor Powell, as gentle as a baby. 
As we drove through Kenmare town, its bridge and 

monastery, 
I thought it was a pity that land should not be free. 

When we reached famed Killarney what first met my 

view 
Were the boys of Pennsylvania, that gallant sculling 

crew ; 
Next day they won their laurels with plenty space to 

spare ; 
Columbia's noble emblem was floating everywhere. 
O'Donoghue's castle on the lakes next day we went to 

see. 
The Tussacks and Muckross, that famed old monastery. 
Killarney's lakes are beautiful and none can them excel, 
But they are out of Irish hands ; Killarney, fare thee well. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 69 

MAGGIE. 

When first I saw her lovely face, I never will forget, 
I thought of it for many a day, I'm thinking of it yet ; 
It haunted me through field and mead, through valley, 

hill and stream, 
And often in a distant clime I thought she was a dream. 
Oh ! could I recall those happy days that passed so swiftly 

by, 

When side by side we walked along beneath an azure sky. 

I sought her in the evening when my daily toil was o'er, 
And whispered tales of love to her and whispered more 

and more. 
One evening in December, while sitting by her side, 
I asked her would she marry me — would she be my 

bride. 
'Twas then she answered with a smile, saying, "I will be 

your wife," 
And I resolved to stick to her through every siege of life. 

The following spring we wedded were, I've no cause to 

regret, 
And she, dear girl, has stuck to me, and ne'er caused me 

to fret; 
My life I'd freely give for her just as I would of old, 
For she is dearer far to me than all this world untold. 
We're married now some years and children have galore, 
Five boys and two girls to grace our Brooklyn floor. 

When in the Western wilds her letters give me cheer, 
And make me love her more and more, my darling 
Maggie dear; 



70 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

It nearly breaks my heart that home I cannot stay, 
Instead of wandering from her side in distant dimes 

away. 
My daily thoughts are with my love, my treasure and my 

pride, 
For she is dearer far to me than all the world beside. 

When my long trips are over my bark for home I steer, 
The laughing voice of her I love is ringing in my ear ; 
The little ones close by her side, I long to see them play, 
And hear them all in chorus cry, ''Our father comes 

to-day!" 
The little ones are growing fast and mother's pets are 

they, 
Which makes my thoughts fly back to them when many 

miles away. 



SKIBBEREEN. 



Even as other lands and other climes are thought of by 

their own, 
The Irish exile thinks of his, his native Innishowen. 
He ne'er forgets his childhood days, the pattern and the 

fair. 
The schoolhouse and the babbling brook and happy hours 

spent there. 
Those happy hours I now recall spent on the village green. 
Till I was forced to leave my home in dear old Skib- 

bereen. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 71 

When I was in my tender years, with spirits light and gay, 
The soldiers and the Peelers I saw both night and day; 
They marched rough-shod o'er mountain, o'er meadow, 

brook and lawn 
And left their hiding places when the day began to 

dawn. 
You all know well how loyal they were to England's 

Queen, 
And that's the reason why I left my home in Skibbereen. 

The scenes I witnessed in those days I never shall forget ; 

I've thought of them in foreign lands, I'm thinking of 
them yet. 

The rich were masters of the soil and made the poor be- 
wail. 

Which caused them from their native heath to foreign 
lands set sail. 

I shared their fate to emigrate from my own isle so green, 

And bade farewell to home and friends in dear old Skib- 
bereen. 

Good men and true are living there although in slavery, 

And hoping still to see the day their country will be free. 

You'll find them true to homeland across the deep blue 
sea, 

And longing for that freedom's dawn to strike for liberty. 

God speed the day, I fondly pray, beneath our flag of 
green, 

When I'll go back to you, my love, and dear old Skib- 
bereen. 



72 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

MY FRIENDS IN BANTRY. 

There's a little spot in Ireland, across the deep blue sea, 
Where I spent many happy days and heard sweet 

Ardnalee. 
The Carrydown and heath so brown you'd hear Frank 

sing each day 
For Patsy Stack and Jimmy Mack in famed old Bantry 

Bay. 

Dan Lyons, too, sincere and true, a sportsman of great 

fame, 
Survey's the shore, yes, o'er and o'er, in search of foreign 

game. 
When he meets young O'Donovan up to the glen they 

stray, 
To meet the ones that they love best from famed old 

Bantry Bay. 

O'Sullivan, too, from near the bridge is often down the 

quay. 
When business hours are over in some lady's company. 
He has admirers by the score and courts them all, they say, 
And soon will marry one of them in famed old Bantry 

Bay. 

But if perchance he went to France to visit gay Paris, 
When he'd come back to Patsy Stack he'd sport the 

fleur de lis 
And tell the maid from whom he strayed when he went 

far away, 
He'd roam no more, but stay on shore in dear old Bantry 

Bay. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 73 

Some other noted celebrities in Bantry town do dwell, 
They're known throughout the valley and also in the dell. 
There's Nano Ryan and Mickey Brien, who live across 

the way, 
Who swears his horse can beat the train from Cork to 

Bantry Bay. 



OLD DROMORE. 



One summer's day from Bantry Bay, two ladies in the 

party, 
From Boston town, of high renown, O'Brien and 

McCarthy. 
Our jaunting car wended its way by meadow, brook and 

lawn. 
As we drove through Conocna feigh and into Collo- 

mane, 
By Poul Gourm and Aughaville we went with goodly 

speed. 
Bold Jack O'Shea drove us that day behind his faithful 

steed. 
The ladies were both strangers and from Columbia's 

shore. 
And went with me that Sunday to visit old Dromore. 

When we reached that ancient place where first I saw the 

light. 
The little church and schoolhouse that were my heart's 

delight. 



74 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

We pitched our camp right on the road and raised our 

flag of green. 
Despite the minions of the Crown, defiant was our 

mien. 
There I beheld the faces known in days gone by, 
Brave men were they to do and dare and wilUngly would 

die. 
If they could free their native land, and that from shore 

to shore. 
The Sunday that I spoke to them at the crossroads in 

Dromore. 

When I stood by that rustic ditch and gazed on all around, 
1 thought of how my motherland by alien chains was 

bound; 
How my kith and kin were murdered or forced to cross 

the sea. 
Some of them now in luxury and some in poverty ; 
And when I beheld the house where first I saw the day. 
The schoolhouse and the ancient church with spires so 

tall and gray. 
My thoughts flew back to boyhood, I was a child once 

more. 
As I spoke to my countrymen that Sunday at Dromore. 

McCarthy brave and Cotter and young Rahilly also, 
The meeting called to order, when I asked them not to go 
With rents to robber landlords, the despoilers of our 

race. 
And told them all to pay no rent, before the Peeler's face. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 75 

This land is ours by God's own rights and that you all 

know well, 
That bastard spawn of Cromwell's band we'll try now to 

expel. 
Brave Father Burts was chairman, whom all of us adore. 
That Sunday when, with my Boston friends, I spoke at 

old Dromore. 

We started then for Cahargh, with banners waving high 
Until we reached that famed old spot, prepared to do or 

die, 
The homes of the McCarthys, where Chieftains once did 

reign, 
And Cromwell met his Waterloo in the Bishopland 

campaign. 
The Reverend Palmer took the chair, a Priest sincere and 

true. 
Who willingly would shed his blood for you, dear land, 

for you ; 
He'd abolish landlordism, and that from shore to shore. 
Such were the words he spoke that day after we left 

Dromore. 

Iscariots of the Irish race, who are both low and mean. 
Were doing the dirty work that day of England's King 

and Queen; 
The ladies from America could hardly understand 
How men could stoop so low, being born in Ireland. 
To see them wear the livery of a foreign King and Queen, 
Who persecuted Irishmen for the wearing of the green; 



76 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

These are the hirelings of the Crown, and in Ireland are 

galore, 
They watched me in the toilet room after I left Dromore. 

Success to you, O'Donovan, and may your life be long. 
We toasted you in wine that day and sang your health in 

song. 
Your house and festal board you gave with hospitality, 
Presided over by your charming wife and interesting 

family; 
And when we left your domicile we left it with good will, 
And directed our course for Skibbereen, down by the old 

steam mill. 
May God His choicest blessings on John O'Donovan pour 
And always send grist to his mill from Cahargh to 

Dromore. 

From there we went to Schull, where the people did us 

cheer, 
In sight of old Fastnet Rock adjacent to Cape Clear; 
I spoke to them that evening and told them what to do ; 
How they'd been persecuted by a hireling English crew. 
When Miss O'Brien then sang about the Emerald shore 
The audience loudly cheered her and called for an 

encore — 
When she gave them ''Sailing Home" you should have 

heard them roar, 
vSuch cheering as was never heard from Sherkin to 

Dromore. 

Now fare 3^ou well, good people, remember one and all, 
The British Lion is trembling and very soon will fall ; 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 77 

The Russian Bear is after him, and when they come tx) 

blows 
The Fenian boys will fall in line as everybody knows. 
So keep your powder dry and sharpen well your steel, 
And soon you'll have a leader like brave Owen Roe 

O'Neill; 
So now keep up your courage and the solemn oath you 

swore, 
To chase the cowardly Peelers from Cork to old Dromore. 

And when that hour at last arrives, in spite of King or 

Queen, 
We'll pull the Union Jack beneath our Irish flag of green ; 
We'll have no use for Peelers nor toadies of the Crown, 
We'll chase them from old Ireland and tear their colors 

down ; 
Our own green flag will proudly wave and that 

triumphantly, 
So be prepared without delay to strike for liberty ; 
"Faugh-a-Ballagh" is our cry, and that from shore to 

shore, 
We'll show them soon what we can do from Belfast to 

Dromore. 



A VISIT TO MY NATIVE LAND. 

After years of toil and trouble in that land beyond the 

sea, 
I revisited my native land I left in poverty. 
And when I trod my native shore, her valleys and her 

hills, 
I thought of the marauders — the cause of all her ills — 



78 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The Peelers and the soldiers, that cursed hireling crew, 
Who murdered meri and women and babes and mothers 

slew. 
Who leveled down the cabins with blood-stained sword 

and torch. 
With crowbars on their shoulders they always led the 

march. 

What a pity that these traitors were born on the soil 

Where Irishmen in slavery for bread each day do toil ; 

Where the purest maids throughout the earth, and that I 
proudly know, 

Are a credit to old Erin no matter where they go ; 

To think that men of Irish birth, with mothers good and 
pure, 

Would persecute their kith and kin and always them 
allure. 

Oh, mothers, when you bore them you made a great mis- 
take. 

For they helped to plunder you and treasure from you 
take. 

To see those cowardly rufifians on Sunday go to pray 
With weapons shining brightly, all ready for the fray. 
To shoot down babes and women, as they often did before, 
When the husbands and the fathers were banished from 

our shore. 
O blessed God! may Thy right hand those hirelings of 

the Crown 
Exterminate from out our land and tear their colors 

down; 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 79 

They're a curse to poor old Ireland, that fair land of the 

fair, 
There is no other land so pure or with her can compare. 

I landed on your shores just at the break of day, 

I need not say I happy felt with spirits light and gay 

To see the smiling faces and red and rosy glow 

Of Erin's sons and daughters who in old Ireland grow. 

I thought it was a pity that they should e'er be slaves 

And forced to leave their native land and cross the ocean 

waves. 
I'd use the torch, I'd use the sword, I'd use the flames of 

hell. 
If I could set old Ireland free and Cromwell's breed expel. 

I'm glad to find you better than when I left your shore 
To cross the broad Atlantic where billows loudly roar. 
When I was forced to leave you, a wanderer to roam, 
Down in Rio de Janeiro, far from my native home, 
I thought of you both night and day, Acushla Asthore 

Machree, 
And often prayed that I might live to help to make you 

free. 
I'm glad to see your face once more, although in slavery. 
But God is good and yet will steer your future destiny. 

The landlords and the bailiffs, the spawn of Cromwell's 

breed, 
Must leave our fertile island, from there we must them 

weed. 



80 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

They're worthy of no quarter, those vampires spawned in 

hell, 
For freedom's dawn is looming up, as they all know full 

well. 
The Peelers and the soldiers, the sailors and shoneens, 
The land grabbers and agents, the coastguards and 

gombeens 
Must seek some other quarters, for here they cannot stay. 
For they must leave old Ireland, and that without delay. 



A VISIT TO CLONAKILTY. 

On the twenty-sixth of August we went to commemorate, 
To Clonakilty City, the heroes of ninet)^-eight. 
Their memory is a balm to hearts both true and brave, 
Some in their homes on Irish soil, some o'er the ocean 

wave. 
O'Leary and brave Saunders at the station did we meet. 
With a Cead Mil-le Failtha that day they did us greet. 
They showed us through that ancient town and there 

were sadly seen 
The graves of patriots who dearly loved the green. 

Their memory still is cherished, you'll see that on the 

square. 
The gift of gallant Irishmen with whom none can 

compare. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 81 

'Tis a credit to old Carbery and Clonakilty, too, 

And showed the traitors of the green what Irishmen 

can do. 
In the center of the city a monument you'll see 
In memory of the men who shed their blood for Irish 

liberty. 
It was started by Bob Saunders to outlast monarchy, 
For Irishmen will ne'er be slaves, their country must be 

free. 

In the town hall that evening Bob Saunders took the 

chair, 
And told the people one and all that now they must 

prepare 
To deal John Bull a deadly blow just like the valiant Boer, 
And drive the Peelers far away from poor old Erin's 

shore. 
I spoke to them that evening, and told them what to do : 
To place no trust in Parliament or any hireling crew. 
I told them they should win their rights and that with 

shining steel, 
Like the immortal Washington and brave Owen Roe 

O'Neill. 

A friend of mine from Boston was with me on that day. 
And sweetly sang "Mavourneen" and "Sailing Down the 

Bay." 
The boys and girls encored her and loudly did her call ; 
When she sang old "Jerusalem" you'd think the house 

would fall. 



82 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Though born in America she hates all Saxon laws ; 
Her father is an Irishman and loves the Irish cause. 
She's a credit to America, a warm friend of mine, 
And lately came to Paddy's land ; her name it is O'Brien. 



Miss Murphy sang in Irish and Father John also ; 

The real McCoy was also there, whom many of you 

know. 
He sang the "Minstrel Boy" and also ''Shandon Bells," 

You'd hear the echo on that night resounding in the dells. 
The meeting then being over, we all retired to rest 
In dear old Clonakilty, close by the ocean's crest. 
Miss Lynch and Miss O'Brien are Irish to the core, 
And lately left America to see old Erin's shore. 



Now fare you well, Bob Saunders, and O'Leary true and 

tried, 
I 'm forced to cross the ocean and travel far and wide ; 
But rest assured, where'er I roam, I'll ne'er forget the 

cause, 
I'm ready now just as of yore to break the Saxon laws. 
So be prepared both one and all, remember what I say. 
The Fenian boys are not dead yet, but waiting for the 

fray. 
And when that longed-for hour arrives, in spite of king 

or queen. 
The sons and daughters of the Gael will rally round the 

green. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 83 

Next day we went to Baiidon behind an old staggeen, 
Where the banner of King Billy once waved above the 

green ; 
Where a Jew, a Turk or athiest through a certain gate 

could go, 
But where no Papist could apply in days long, long ago. 
The "poor scholar" carved beneath it, I'm sure you all 

know well, 
"The same inscription written here is on the gates of hell." 
From there we went to Rebel Cork, Miss Lynch and Miss 

O'Brien, 
And sailing down the River Lee they said it was the 

Rhine. 

They went aboard the tender that took me out to sea 
To cross the broad Atlantic for the land of liberty. 
Old Ireland should be proud of them, her daughters true 

and brave, 
Though living in America where the starry flag doth 

wave; 
They're worthy of being recorded among the brave and 

true. 
They showed their Irish brothers what Irish maids could 

do. 
They're both now in America, that land of liberty. 
And to his will I do resign my future destiny. 



84 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

SHAUN BHEE'S EVICTION. 

When a stripling in Ireland one morning I saw 

An eviction that was not according to law ; 

I saw the last cow taken out of the barn, 

And rescued by brave hearts that very same morn. 

The bailiff he seized her one morning in June 

While the owner was sleeping and dreaming of ruin. 

I saw the cow taken at dawn of the day, 

And Blakney he hastened to steal her away, 

Knowing full well if Mike were around 

She never would go to the Drimoleague Pound ; 

So I planned the rescue and knocked on the door 

Of poor Shaun Bhee's cabin, v^^ho slept on the floor. 

Mike and his wife I quickly awoke, 
And both followed Blakney and thus to him spoke : 
"That cow is our father's !" they loudly did shout, 
"If you don't let her go we will dash your brains out; 
Her milk is his medicine now in his old age," 
Then seizing the cow they flew into a rage. 

One blow dealt by A/Iickey the bailifif laid low. 
Then he gave him another and two more I trow ; 
The blood of the bailiff was thick on the field 
When Mike took the cow and forced him to yield. 
I witnessed all this, which was a great feat, 
And proud was I that the bailiff was forced to retreat. 

I first gave the signal to Mickey to start, 
And told him be lively or else he'd be caught. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 85 

1 ran over woodlands, o'er hills and o'er brakes, 
When I think of that morning, oh, how my heart aches ; 
The old man lay dying on the cold cabin floor, 
When I gave the alarm by blows on the door. 

At last I succeeded, how sad was his moan ! 

But he was defiant as a king on his throne. 

"Go bring back my cow ! Like your father be true, 

I am too feeble or I would go too ; 

I am ninety odd years," the old man did say, 

"And have worked for the landlord by night and by day. 

"Go rescue the cow, no time's to be lost, 

Bring her back to me whate'er the cost." 

I was then but a stripling, but remember quite well 

The wails of the children resounding the dell. 

The old man with vengeance then gazed on the crowd 

x\t the door of his cabin, defiant and proud. 



ON BOARD THE "CAMPANIA." 

Farewell, dear native land, you're fading from my view. 
Your shores I'm leaving far behind to cross the ocean 

blue. 
My heart is with you day and night, acushla asthore 

machree, 
Though I may never see again those scenes so dear to me. 
Your mountains and your valleys I've strolled in days 

gone by, 
The blackbird and the thrush I've heard beneath your 

azure sky; 



86 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The linnet and the nightingale I've heard them o'er and 

o'er, 
Oh, gra machree I'm leaving thee, and ne'er may see 

thee more. 

Though sad and lonely now I feel I've never hoped in 

vain. 
That I may live to see the day we'll burst your chains 

in twain; 
The hirelings of an alien race can never us subdue, 
So come what will, through good or ill, to you I will be 

true; 
And though I leave your shores once more you're ever 

dear to me. 
And from the bounding billows I bid farewell to thee. 
Your shady groves and valleys in dreams I'll wander 

there. 
And wish that I could stay with you, the fairest of the 

fair. 

Though cursed traitors tread your soil, the minions of 

the Crown, 
We'll sweep them yet from off our land and pull their 

colors down; 
The redcoats and the Peelers w^e'll banish as of yore, 
Good-by, Cape Clear, I'm leaving you, likewise old Erin's 

shore. 
The Stars and Stripes are looming up, my home awaits 

me there. 
But you will still be dear to me, none with you can 

compare. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 87 

Your sons and daughters scattered will yet revisit you, 
Another look before I say "Dear native land, adieu." 

Schull, Glandore and Aughadown my thoughts are now 
with you, 

Fond memories of the hours spent in Nine Acres and Sea- 
view ; 

The creamery in the valley, the cottage in the glade, 

The picnic by the seaside, from me will never fade ; 

The haystack and famed Baltimore, O'Driscoll's castle, 
too, 

Dunbeacon Bay and Durrus most enchanting to the view. 

Some friends that I love dearly in Ireland do remain. 

As I roll on the billows across the raging main. 

Good-by, old Galleyhead, while rolling on the deep. 
From the deck of the "Campania" as the sun is going to 

sleep. 
I ne'er again may see your shores that are so dear to me. 
While ploughing through the ocean for the land of liberty. 
My native home Fm leaving for my adopted land, 
For I have been since childhood on New York's distant 

strand. 
Fm standing on the deck as the moon shines o'er the dell 
In the land of Robert Emmet and Charles Stewart 

Parnell. 

The last glimpse of old Erin is fading from my view. 
But I'll ne'er forget your hills and dales across the ocean 
blue; 



88 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Your sons are still as true as Emmet or Wolfe Tone, 
And waiting for that longed-for hour to strike and claim 

their own. 
Oh ! cruel fate, why must it be that I can not remain 
In my own native land and not cross o'er the main ? 
Away from scenes of childhood, 'mong strangers now to 

dwell, 
With aching heart again I say, "My native land, fare- 
well." 



A TRIBUTE TO MY BELOVED WIFE, WHO 
DIED JANUARY, 8, 1899. 

I ne'er will see that face again with beaming smiles so 

sweet, 
Which welcomed me from far-ofif trips, and fondly did 

me greet; 
No more by brook or streamlet in happy days I ween. 
And walk with her I loved so well, will I again be seen. 
She was all on earth to me, my treasure, and my pride. 
And would that I could see again my fondest love, my 

bride. 

How well do I remember when she became my wife, 

A purer soul could not exist, through twent}^ years of life. 

As years rolled on my fondness grew for her I loved so 

well, 
And when she died how sad I felt no tongue but mine 

can tell; 
But Providence decreed that parted we should be, 
And to His will I do resign my future destiny. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 89 

The fondest hopes I cherish within this aching breast, 
Are that her sweet spirit has flown to its celestial rest. 
With all my trials and hardships, full of grief and care. 
When I leave this sinful world I hope to meet her there. 
In dreams I'm often with her in our once happy home, 
The little ones, God bless them, for caresses to me come. 

When I stood by her bedside to take a last farewell. 
She looked far sweeter than of yore, the one I loved so 

well; 
She knew her hour had come, that hour I'll ne'er forget. 
As she calmly waited to be called, I'm thinking of it yet; 
Once more I kissed the precious lips of twenty years my 

wife. 
And then she calmly passed away and gave to God her 

life. 

vShe told me not to weep for her, but guard our children 

dear. 
And bring them up with tender care, to which I will 

adhere. 
'Tis sad to have to part with one that was so dear to me, 
Who often cheered me on my way to bright prosperity ; 
But now all hopes are blighted, I'll see her face no more. 
Until we meet above the clouds on that bright heavenly 

shore. 

In a sacred spot in Calvary she sleeps, no more to wake. 
Where green grass grows and lilies fair I planted for her 

sake. 
I am longing now to see that lonely new-made grave, 
To moisten it with tears of mine this aching heart doth 

crave ; 



90 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

She is resting on the hillside calmly and serene, 

And her request to me was, that it always be kept green. 

Now fare thee well, my only love, I hope you're free from 

care, 
In heaven above where all is love there is no sorrow there. 
And often in the solemn, the lone and silent night, 
Methinks I hear once again the voice of my delight ; 
And every hour throughout this my sad and clouded life. 
It bids me be calm amid the peace of starry strife. 



TO IRELAND. 

(On board the "Lucania," July 5, 1900.) 

Ah! there you are asthore machree, most charming to 

behold. 
Where first I saw the light of day, beneath your green 

and gold; 
Your mountain peaks are now in view, your hills and 

valleys fair. 
Oh, there's no land throughout this world that can with 

you compare ! 
I've thought of you in distant lands and climes far, far 

away. 
And often with an aching heart to God for you I'd pray. 

The exile's thoughts are first of home, no matter where 

he be, 
And now, thank God, my native land, your shores once 

more I see. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 91 

Oh ! mother dear, why must it be that you are still in 

chains ? 
Your sons have fought for other lands and given their 

blood and brains. 
You look to me just as of yore, your fields are fresh and 

green, 
Oh! gra machree, but there you are, my first love, oh, 

my queen ! 

When first Ileft you, Ireland, to cross the deep blue sea, 

Fond hearts were there, but now, alas ! they will not wel- 
come me. 

The graveyard now contains their bones, no more I'll see 
their face, 

And I will miss their loving kiss, also their fond embrace. 

Though years have passed since last I saw your valleys 
and your hills, 

Your glories I have ne'er forgot, your sorrows nor your 
ills. 

Historic dear old Kerry Head, you look just as before; 

The Fastnet Rock, Bull, Cow and Calf, near dear old Bal- 
timore. 

With pleasant sail we'll see Kinsale before it is high 
noon. 

Oh! how I long to tread your shores, dear motherland, 
aroon ; 

Once more I greet you with a cheer from out the ocean's 
roar, 

This pays me for the years I've been away from you, 
asthore ! 



92 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

A VISIT TO GOUGANE BARRA. 

(Sunday, August 19, 1900.) 

When first I gazed upon those scenes of fame, 

My native town I reached, when from New York I came. 

I heard so much of Keimaneigh, the Leap, the Whip and 

Stone, 
The Peep-o'-Day and White Boys and kings they did 

dethrone ; 
The battle fought in Keimaneigh in eighteen twenty-two ; 
And how the gallant Michael Walsh the Yeomen did 

subdue ; 
And how the patriots held the pass from Kealkill to 

Gougane, 
How mountaineer chased cavalier o'er valley, hill and 

lawn. 

When I beheld these ancient scenes I thought of bygone 

days, 
Of Doheny and Smith O'Brien when foremost in the 

frays ; 
And how when in pursuit of them, the traitors on their 

trail, 
Bold Doheny gave them the slip and for New York set 

sail. 
Deep-valleyed Desmond I beheld most charming to the 

view. 
Where Munster's king once reigned supreme, defiantly 

and true. 
When I gazed on that valley, described as Nature's vale, 
I thought of all the glories of poor old Innisfail. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 93 

And how she was in bondage despite her piety, 

By cursed alien tyrants of high and low degree. 

I heard my native tongue in song and prose that day 

By Coakley and O' Sullivan in Gougane far away. 

I'd like to know why other lands that are not half so fair, 

No rents nor taxes have to pay and breathe their native 

air. 
But we're oppressed by foreign laws and native hirelings, 

too — 
The vampires of Cromwell's spawn, and to his teachings 

true. 

But the day yet will come when those tyrants must go, 
Far away from my birthplace to England I trow ; 
Such vipers and bloodhounds no more will we need, 
For with musket and cannon we'll force them to yield. 
Gilhooly, our chieftain, Den Downey and Co. 
Will join in the combat, they're true men I know ; 
Stack and O' Sullivan will be in the fray 
To drive all the Peelers from Bantry Bay. 

Whiddy Island, where chieftains once did reign, 

Not far from Dunboy Castle, where Philip's hot campaign 

Was waged against the Saxon, when he went torch in 

hand 
To reach the powder magazine and strike for motherland. 
That harbor looked so picturesque, beneath the azure sky. 
I thought if Wolfe Tone landed there how proudly he 

could die, 
Fighting for our sacred rights, our castles, lands and all, 
For he would strike for liberty with ready blade and ball. 



94 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The square is now called after him in letters large I ween, 
Where lately I heard minstrels sing "The Wearing of the 

Green." 
The peelers then dispersed the crowd and forced the 

bards away, 
But reinforced they came and sang the same next day. 
The boys and girls surrounded them and loudly they did 

yell 
When they sang in the highest key, ''Brave Charles 

Stewart Parnell." 
Costigan and Stack then formed a hollow square, 
They knew it was their Spion Kop, Taboo was in the 

rear. 



I've traveled all over old Ireland, through meadow, 

through mountain and lawn, 
But I'll never forget the last Sunday I spent with my 

friends in Gougane. 
The gap of Dunlow, Giant's Causeway, Brighton, the 

Seine or the wSuir. 
Are not half so enchanting to gaze on as the scenes I saw 

there on my tour. 
I saw many sights in my travels through Germany, 

France and old Spain, 
When the Saxons were routed by Sarsfield, when he had 

to cross over the main. 
The boys and girls were boating, while the old folk in 

monastery prayed. 
And their echoes resounded the valley when they cheered 

for Paul Kruger's Brigade. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 95 

O'Sullivan sang in the Gaelic, the dark clouds passed 

quickly away, 
At Cronin's Hotel for the ladies he sang "The First 

Dawn of the Day." 
He sang ''God Save Old Ireland" in Irish and English 

also 
To the matrons and maids of our party who to Gougane 

that Sunday did go. 

Such scenes as these loom up again, though on a distant 

shore. 
Where the Lee is fed from out the rocks by purling 

streams galore. 
The island church and ancient walls of Finbar's 

Monastery, 
Cronin's house where all did dine that came from Bantry. 

When we drove through the main street of Bantry Bay, 
With a gunboat in sight on that bright August day, 
1 thought then and there of immortal Wolfe Tone, 
As I gazed on my birthplace my heart grew like stone 
To think that the tyrant controlled my own land. 
With her armed marines and recruits sword in hand. 
Her peelers and sailors, the slaves of the crown ; 
A disgrace to famed Bantry, my dear native town. 



96 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

TO MY ESTEEMED FRIENDS OF BANTRY 

BAY. 

Home of my youth, of Thee I think no matter where I 

roam, 
ril ne'er forget the friends I left in my once happy home ; 
My thoughts are now of you, asthore, your hills and 

vales remind me 
Of the days I spent in merriment with the friends I left 

behind me. 

There's Patsy Stack and Charley Mack, Costigan and 

Canty ; 
O' Sullivan, too, sincere and true, Levis and McCarthy. 
Miss Kate I ween, the village queen, her sweet face oft 

reminds me 
Of Bantry fair, also the square, and the friends I left 

behind me. 

Although I'm in a foreign land, you're ever dear to me, 
Old Ireland I will ne'er forget in the land of liberty. 
There's not a day, there's not a night, but memories 

remind me. 
Of the happy days I lately spent in that land I left behind 

me. 

You'll find fair maids and gallant blades in dear old 

Bantry Bay, 
Each evening in the twilight you'll meet them down 

the quay; 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 97 

Their rosy cheeks and winning ways in a distant clime 

inspire me 
To write this poem far, far from home for the friends I 

left behind me. 

In Whiddy Isle, my native soil, I sailed around your 

coast. 
In Bantry Bay one summer's day, that I can proudly 

boast. 
Those bright blue eyes, 'neath azure skies, of a fair-haired 

girl remind me, 
As we sailed that day right through the bay that I left 

far behind me. 

In O'Connor's yacht we boldly sailed around the Edward 

crew. 
Our green flag floated in the breeze, with the red, white 

and blue. 
The Boston ladies sweetly sang, their melodies remind 

me, 
Of Bantr}^ Bay far, far away and the friends I left behind 

me. 

Young Lyons, bold like a knight of old, my friend sincere 

and true, 
Invited me most cordially to share his craft with you; 
His kindness I will ne'er forget, his courtesies remind- 

me, ': 

Of my native land far, far away and the friends I left 

behind me. 



98 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

'Tis sad to part from you asthore and leave the tyrants 

rule you; 
I know that on your shore there are men who are tried 

and true, too; 
Now, Patsy Stack, when I go back, I hope I'll married 

find thee, 
And settled down in Bantry Town that I left far behind 

me. 

Now fare you well, Tim Hurley, Jack Lyons and Patsy 

Stack, 
I hope to see you one and all the next time I go back. 
Should you e'er come to Brooklyn Town, in Hart street 

you will find me, 
Four twenty-four is on the door for the friends I left 

behind me. 



THE MAID OF DROUMOURTNEEN. 

I met her in the summer time on her own native soil 
In famed Glengariff not far from Slievnagoil ; 
Her eyes are of azure blue and sparklingly doth shine ; 
As we sailed that day right through the bay the weather 
it was fine. 

She's a credit to her native land, my own dear isle so 

green, 
I'll ne'er forget when first I met the Maid of Drou- 

mourtneen. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 99 

I see her walking through the street, erect, with stately 

mien, 
She's fresh and fair with golden hair, defiant as a queen. 
She left her home when young in years and went across 

the sea^ 
And sought a home beneath that flag — the Flag of 

Liberty. 

She longed to see her country home, also the village green, 
Where oft she played in childhood days — the Maid of 
Droumourtneen. 



Once more she's in America, at home she could not stay, 
The rents and taxes were too high, she had to go away. 
She ne'er forgot the Emerald Isle, a patriot is she, 
And willingly would give her life to set old Ireland 
free. 

She's one of Erin's daughters, and that I proudly ween, 
Always true to Motherland, the Maid of Droumourtneen. 



Though I may ne'er see her again, I'm proud to know 

that she, 
Contented now and happy, is in this Land of Liberty. 
May fortune always smile on her through every weal and 

woe, 
And may she live to see the day the Saxon is laid low. 

I wish that I could hear her sing ''The Wearing of the 

Green" 
As I did in her native land — the Maid of Droumourtneen. 



L.ofC. 



100 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Fare thee well, Glengariff, Dromore and Collomane, ' 
I left your hills and valleys when the day began to dawn ; 
When I sailed from the Cove of Cork to cross the ocean 

wide 
The subject of my ditty was sitting by my side. 

And when I left sweet Innisfail, that island in the sheen, 
I heaved a sigh and bid good-by to the Maid of Drou- 
mourtneen. 



My thoughts are now of bygone days, Scart and Bantry 

Bay, 
Coleen and Schull, Crook Haven, too — in Cal-i-for-ni-a. 
I hope that I will live to see, and that from shore to shore, 
Our green flag wave triumphantly from Antrim to 

Dromore. 

'Tis there the children of the Gael would rally 'round the 

green. 
And she, brave girl, would cross the main — the Maid of 

Droumourtneen. 




BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 101 

JUDAS ISCARIOT SHERIDAN— THE PEELER. 

In Ireland lived a hireling employed by England's king, 

Who mutilated cattle and home their tails would bring 

To make up soup for comrades of English nomination, 

Who drank it on a Friday by special dispensation ; 

The turtle was not "in it" when the ox-tail went around 

To satisfy the cravings of an Irish traitor hound. 

They call him Sergeant Sheridan — the people on him 

frown — 
A disgrace to her that bore him in old Roscommon Town. 

He sent the innocent to prison to gain a devil's reward, 

In trying to get promotion and adding to his hoard. 

His pal was an impostor, Bill Wyndham was his name. 

Who to the great Lord Edward relationship doth claim. 

They sent the innocent to prison for acts they ne'er com- 
mitted ; 

Oh, God ! to think that such a wretch on earth should be 
permitted, 

But they will reap a just reward on the great Judgment 
Day, 

When they'll have no chance of pardon, and little time 
to pray. 

His work was known in Dublin, within the Castle wall. 
And those whose lives he swore away to wear a chain and 

ball; 
The judge was always on his side, the jury would agree 
To take the oath of Sheridan 'gainst Irish liberty. 
His conscience now must gnaw him, the vilest of the vile. 
For he bereft fond mothers of their sons in Erin's Isle. 



103 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The brand of Cain is on his brow, his carcass is tattooed ; 
'Twill not be long until he is like an animal lassoed. 

This cursed wretch would cut the heart, the liver and the 

spleen, 
The tongues pull out and eyeballs, too, for England's 

king and queen ; 
And this was done in Ireland, that saintly land so fair. 
By a cowardly Irish Peeler, with whom none can 

compare ; 
He burned hay, he burned oats, produced on Irish soil 
By brawny hands, with God's own aid, who honestly doth 

toil. 
He maimed the beasts upon the field, the earth did 

desecrate 
With his foul deeds throughout the land, with Wyndham 

for his mate. 

There is no other nation on this earth would tolerate such 

deeds 
As burning hay and maiming calves and cattle in the 

meads. 
And Wyndham knew the foulest work that e'er could be 

committed. 
And this loathsome wretch unpunished go by Billy was 

permitted. 
This wicked wretch should meet his death upon a gallows 

tree; 
His carcass then should be cut down and cast into the 

sea; 
His body ne'er should lie in consecrated ground. 
For of traitors and informers none like him can be found. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 103 

This ruffian is now living on fair Columbia's shore, 
A disgrace to our republic now and for evermore. 
He dare not stay in Ireland, for there he would be slain, 
But he is in America and here he will remain. 
Fitzharris was deported from this great land so free, 
They sent him back to Dublin across the deep blue sea. 
His crime was being an Irishman and hating English 

laws. 
For he refused the blood-money 'gainst Ireland's holy 

cause. 



ON BOARD THE "TEUTONIC." 

To-day, before the sun goes down. Old Ireland's peaks 

we'll see, 
An exile from your shores I've been for years, "Asthore 

Machree" ; 
I'm longing now to see your vales, just as in days of 

yore; 
In foreign lands I ne'er forgot your fertile plains, 

asthore. 

CHORUS. 

Sailing home, sailing home, from far across the sea ; 
Sailing to Old Ireland from the land of liberty. 
Sailing home, sailing home, from far across the sea ; 
Sailing to Old Ireland from the land of liberty. 

We sailed away with goodly speed and left New York 

behind ; 
A jolly crowd we had on board, who knew no troubled 

mind ; 



104 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

On the 26th of June, with spirits light and gay, 
On board of the ''Teutonic" we sailed down through the 
Bay. 

Right on the lee ! why there is land, though miles it is 

away ; 
Behold it now, both one and all, where first I saw the day. 
I proudly hail you. Motherland, and greet you with a 

smile; 
The fairest nation on this earth is poor old Erin's Isle. 

The historic Cove of Cork we'll see before sundown, 
Haulbowline, Spike and Galley Head, and also Augha- 

down; 

Baltimore's famed Castle, known both far and wide. 
Where, fighting for her honor, O'Driscoll's daughter died. 

Toward the Bull, Cow and the Calf with steady wind we 

glide, 
And the Old Head of Kinsale, where Munster's Chieftain 

died ; 
Kerry Head and mountain peaks are looming in the 

shade, 
Daunt's Old Rock and Fastnet, too, by Nature there were 

laid. 

Though now you are in bondage, your chains will yet be 

broke. 
Your stalwart sons and daughters will burst in twain 

your yoke; 
And then these alien hirelings to other lands will go, 
For Irishmen will now unite and deal that longed-for 

blow. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 105 

Cheer up, then, sons of Erin, Old Ireland must be free ; 
At last we are united in fight for liberty. 
The Orange and the Green will now march hand in hand 
To strike a blow for liberty in dear Old Ireland. 

No bigot shall our conscience mar, nor slave instill his 

fears, 
While fighting for our sacred rights as Irish Volunteers. 
The Orange and the Green in triumph then will wave, 
And soon you'll see a monument above brave Emmet's 

grave. 



DEAR OLD COLLOMANE. 

When I was but a boy and played upon the village green, 
Where you could hear the bagpipes in happy days I ween, 
The boys and girls would often go to hear the Piper 

Bawn, 
And many a pleasant day I spent in dear old 

CoUomane. 

From Aughaville we often went on Sunday afternoon 
To hear old Peter play the pipes — he gave us many a 

tune ; 
His wife sat close beside him as gentle as a fawn 
And told them take their partners in dear old Col- 

lomane. 



106 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The boys and girls would courting go, and when the da)- 

was o'er 
With spirits gay would wend their way from thee to old 

Dromore ; 
Some would remain at Crowley's and take a cruiskeen 

laun 
And not go home till morningfrom dear old Collomane. 

"The Croppy Boy" you would hear then, and "Rising of 
the Moon," 

Who dare run down old Ireland? — also the Paustin fuin. 
I often heard McCarthy sing the "Colleen Bawn" 
And "The Boys Are Coming Horne" in dear old Col- 
lomane. 

By field and mead and purling stream in youthful days I 

strayed, 
By hill and dale through wood and vale, through heather 

and through glade ; 
The days I spent in merriment, often until dawn, 
I'll ne'er forget while life is left, in dear old Collomane. 

I fancy I am often there, though in a foreign clime, 

I'll ne'er forget your hills and vales and mountain peaks 

sublime ; 
I'll ne'er forget my early days in meadow, brook and 

lawn. 
When I a stripling went to play in dear old Collomane. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 107 

AN IRISH GIRL. 

She once lived home with parents dear before she crossed 

the sea^ 
And with a broken heart left her own country ; 
She left the little babbling brook, the cottage by the hill. 
Where she first saw the light of day, which made her 

heart's blood thrill. 
You'll meet her on the battlefield where cannon loud doth 

roar, 
You'll meet her in the banquet hall far, far from Erin's 

shore, 
You'll meet her in the pesthouse where she goeth at her 

peril ; 
No danger does she fear, for she's an Irish girl. 

You'll meet her in the workshop, you'll meet her in the 

store, 
Waiting on the customers and selling goods galore ; 
You'll meet her in the kitchen and dining-room also, 
Her services are sought for wherever she may go. 
You'll find her a designer, an artist and typewriter. 
In fact, in every walk of life you may be sure to find her. 
In the schoolroom and the music-hall each day you'll see 

her whirl, 
Always wrapped up in her work, for she's an Irish girl. 

You'll find her in the restaurant and also at the books, 
She's taken for her purity, not always for. her looks; 
You'll find her in the factory, working like a slave, 
But true to Faith and Motherland across the ocean's 
wave; 



108 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

You'll see her Sunday morning with raiment rich and 

rare — 
There is no lady in the land but she can with compare. 
When married she's contented more than a lord or earl, 
Whatever cause, there's no divorce, for she's an Irish 

girl. 

She ne'er forgets the mother that nursed her night and 

day, 
Till she was forced to leave her home and go far, far 

away. 
Her father dear she thinks of, too, though she was young 

in years. 
And often when she thinks of him in silence she sheds 

tears. 
She's noted for her modesty, for that she is well known 
In England and America as well as Innishowen ; 
If e'er a man insults her, he'll do so at his peril, 
For she would die before she'd yield, she is an Irish girl. 

You'll find her in the drawing-room, with smiles she will 

you greet 
And Irish hospitality where'er you will her meet; 
You'll find her at the organ and leader in the choir, 
Instructing little children, it is her heart's desire ; 
You'll find her in the convent, forever there to dwell. 
Leaving all her kith and kin after a long farewell ; 
She's a credit to her country despite the English churl, 
Virtuous and faithful, for she's an Irish girl. 

You'll find her in the meadow arid also on the lawn, 
You'll find her in the dairy when the day begins to dawn. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 109 

You'll find her in the creamery, you'll find her at the fair, 
You'll find her with the milking pail, none with her can 

compare. 
When the boys go to court her with voices low and sweet 
She treats them all with courtesy whene'er they chance 

to meet. 
You'll find her in South Africa, and also Mexico, 
You'll always find an Irish girl, no matter where you go. 



A TRIBUTE TO MAJOR JOHN M'BRIDE. 

Who is he with stately mien who lately came to town, 
Fearless as an eagle, with features bronzed and brown? 
He fought in many a battle, but ne'er received a scar, 
Though he was foremost in the fray when Kruger went 

to war. 
He bivouacked both night and day with comrades brave 

and true. 
Upon the veldt and on the hills, no fear he ever knew. 
His thoughts were of his native land, he was his mother's 

pride; 
To-day she should feel proud of him, brave Major John 

McBride ! 

And when he left his native hills in Mayo far away. 

He prayed that he would live to see the dawn of Free- 
dom's day; 

He steered his bark for Africa and fought for freedom 
there, ; . .^ .: ^ 

Though he would rather live at home and breathe his 
native a;ir. 



110 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

When Botha raised his battle flag he rallied 'neath its 
fold, 

And swore that he would do or die beneath its green and 
gold ; 

He fought beside the valiant Boer and with his laws com- 
plied, 

And many a Saxon felt the blows of Major John 
McBride. 

He fought with gallant Blake, DeWet and General Conje, 

too, 
At Ladysmith and Kimberley, when balls like hailstones 

flew. 
At Krugersdorp and Mafeking he fought the redcoats 

there, 
Although they numbered ten to one he drove them in 

despair. 
Six hundred English hirelings lay dead upon the field, 
McBride's command with shot and shell forced Fighting 

Bob to yield; 
And once again, at Spion Kop, he to the front did ride, 
And when his horse was seen to fall, on foot rushed John 

McBride. 

Now he is in America and ready as of yore 

To strike a blow for Motherland on poor old Erin's 

shore. 
The Peelers or the Redcoats, of them he has no fear. 
On foot or on a prancing steed, this Irish Volunteer. 
He fought in foreign lands to help the gallant Boer, 
When English bullets rattled and cannon loud did roar; 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. Ill 

So Irishmen get ready, he is old Erin's pride, 

And terror to the Saxon race, is Major John McBride. 

And when that longed-for morn arrives, in spite of King 

or Peer, 
Though outlawed now, he will be there, no danger does 

he fear. 
The hirelings of an alien race have met him once before, 
That meeting was in Africa — the next will be Glenore. 
His record is well known among the brave and true. 
The sons and daughters of the Gael, the faithful and the 

few; 
The tears of the oppressed by him will soon be dried. 
In freedom's cause he'll lead the van, brave Major John 

McBride ! 

We have been robbed of God's own rights by a brutal, 

hireling crew; 
Some are the spawn of Cromwell's breed, and some are 

Irish, too. 
The Dublin Fusileers good English soldiers made, 
Though killed and captured on the veldt by the Irish- 
Boer Brigade. 
No more they'll see Fermanagh, Dundalk or Tanderagee, 
They fought against the valiant Boer and Irish liberty ; 
Fighting in a robber cause, those renegades all died 
By blows dealt them by Irishmen like Major John 
McBride. 



112 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

THINKING OF HOME. 

In the great Golden West I am thinking of home, the 

place where I first saw the light, 
The meadows and brooklets and verdure so green and 

sweet smiling faces so bright; 
The church and the schoolhouse, the mill-pond and bright, 

rolling river close by, 
When my thoughts fly to thee, over mountain and sea, my 

poor heart for you oft doth sigh. 

I think of the days when I ofttimes strayed with the 

boys and the girls so fair, 
To Bantry's old town, that place of renown, where none 

with her maids can compare. 
God bless them, I pray, though far, far away across the 

wide ocean so blue, 
May the day soon be nigh when we'll conquer or die 

a-fighting, Acushla, for you. 

The hills and the valleys loom up in the gloom, the 

meadows and murmuring streams, 
Your far, far-off shore, I may ne'er see more, but you 

oft will appear in my dreams. 
Since the strangers have murdered and plundered our 

race, and forced us to wander from home. 
We shall never forget the foul deeds and the thefts, no 

matter where'er we may roam. 

These hirelings of hell, though a sad tale to tell, a curse 
to my dear native shore, 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 113 

Caused millions to go through weal and through woe and 

never old Ireland see more. 
The purest and dearest of Ireland's fair maids from 

fathers and mothers would go, 
And brothers and sisters with sad broken hearts, that in 

foreign lands now are laid low. 



Though sad is our fate since we should emigrate and 

leave our own land far behind. 
And the ivy-clad cottage that stood by the hill, their 

memory's fresh in my mind. 
May we yet see the day in foray or fray with an army in 

dear Erin's Isle, 
To banish the snakes from Killarney's fair lakes and 

those who our homes would despoil. 



I think of the days of my childhood always that I spent 

in the land of my birth. 
From the bridge by the grove where I often would rove 

with my heart full of joy and of mirth. 
The lodgehouse and gate, Davy Barry and Kate, Jago, 

Dan Whelpley and Co., 
I shall never forget while one breath is left, no matter 

where'er I may go. 



114 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

THOUGHTS OF BOYHOOD DAYS. 

How often, oh, how often, do I think of days gone by, 
The church and little babbling brook where I knew 

naught but joy; 
Now in a foreign country, in dreams I'm often there, 
Revisiting my childhood scenes, none with which can 

compare. 
The schoolhouse and the cottage that stood close by the 

hill, 
Where oft I played upon the green, my heart with joy 

would fill. 

The rough and ready warring blades to Ireland always 

true, 
First learned to hate the Saxon and made the tyrants few ; 
I grew up in those troubled days in good old sixty-eight, 
Till I was forced away from home, and had to emigrate. 
I swore I'd not forget the past, though in a foreign clime. 
For Ireland is my native land until the end of time. 

That little schoolhouse still is there and rustic church 

also. 
Where I spent many happy days in childhood long ago ; 
And though an exile far from there, across the deep blue 

sea, 
A hope remains within this heart old Ireland will be free. 
If we could drive away from there the minions of the 

Crown, 
We'd raise once more above the red the Harp without 

the Crown. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 115 

GOLEEN. 

From Bantry Bay one August day we started rather 
early, 

A lady fair with golden hair helped to make up the 
party. 

With lightning speed our faithful steed, with Jack be- 
hind the lines. 

From Droumourtneen to Gabriel we passed the 
Capaugh mines, 

The maids and matrons looked so fair tipon the village 
green, 

The Sunday I drove through the rain to speak at old 
Goleen. 

When I reached that ancient village that overlooks the 

sea, 
Where ruined castles yet remain in th' Isles of Carbery, 
Where O'Driscolls and O'Mahoneys in former days 

did reign, 
Till the robbers came and plundered them from far 

across the main. 
That day I thought of you, Asthore, wrapped in your 

emerald green, 
When I told how you were plundered that Sunday at 

Goleen. 

It was convenient to the sea where they had pitched 

their camp. 
Brave men were there to do and dare, although the air 

was damp. 



116 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The cowardly Peelers too were there with weapons 

shining bright, 
To show John Bull their loyalty in case there was a 

fight. 
Joan Riley stood beside them, defiant was her mien. 
No shoe or stocking did she wear that Sunday at 

Goleen. 



The meeting called to order, the speakers they began, 
Joan Riley watched the Bobbies, she was foremost in 

the van, 
To see her as she gazed upon the minions of the Crown, 
You'd swear she was determined to pull their colors 

down; 
She never took her eyes from off our floating flag of 

green. 
The Sunday I stood on the cart and spoke at old 

Goleen. 



The chairman bravely spoke his mind and told them 

what to do, 
If they stood by one another no power could them 

subdue. 
No parish Priest or Curate or Parson did I see. 
To raise his voice to God above for Irish liberty. 
Oh, mother dear, why must it be that they could not be 

seen. 
The Sunday I drove forty miles to speak at old Goleen ? 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. U7 

Your daughter from America, a credit to your shore, 
Who crossed the broad Atlantic where dashing billows 
roar. 

Was present at the meeting, with a sister young in 

years, 
And when I spoke of you, Machree— the two of them 

in tears. 
Their name is Lynch; they dearly love to wear the Irish 

green, 

And both were with me on that day I spoke at old 
Goleen. 

Raycroft bold, that knight of old, most manfully did 
say, 

"I'm not afraid of all the kings from London to Bom- 
bay. 

My kith and kin were murdered upon this sacred soil, 

And I am here to strike a blow at those who would 
despoil. 

They robbed and plundered us from here along to 
Droumourtneen, 

So be prepared to smite them down, brave men of old 
Goleen." 

McCarthy brave, that shining light, like a warrior of 

old. 
Who fought the foe with blade and ball spoke fearlessly 

and bold. 
He's a credit to his country, a patriot brave is he, 
And willingly would give his life to set old Ireland free. 



118 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

His record is well known and prized in Skibbereen; 
He spoke like Charles Stewart Parnell that Sunday at 
Goleen. 



Bold Rahilly, with youthful face, spoke manfully that 

day, 
He told them to unite and hold the foe at bay. 
Toohig, also, spoke his mind, and that defiantly 
And willingly would fall in line to strike for liberty. 
In McCormack's house we refuge found — his wife the 

village queen — 
She treated us right royally that Sunday at Goleen. 

The meeting then being over, to Crook Haven we did 

go, 
Across the bay, that August day, indeed we were not 

slow; 
With Raycroft and McCarthy taking turns at the 

wheel, 
We ploughed right through the waters upon an even 

keel. 
Miss Lynch was on the quarterdeck, as graceful as a 

queen. 
As we landed on that shingled strand after we left 

Goleen. 

Then, when we reached McCarthy's house, his charm- 
ing family 
Cead mi-le failtha gave to us, adjacent to the sea; 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 119 

We sat around his festive board and toasted him in 

wine, 
Surrounded by him family, as we all fell in line. 
With prose and song Crook Haven rang, the like I 

ne'er have seen. 
That Sunday I drove o'er the hills to speak at old 

Goleen. 



And when we steered our bark for home, with forty in 

the boat, 
Three cheers we gave for Motherland, despite the 

coastguard's float. 
As fine a crowd of Irishmen as I would wish to see, 
Each ready then to strike a blow for Irish liberty. 
The ladies were the bravest that ever I have seen. 
Who went with me through pouring rain that Sunday 

to Goleen. 



Now fare you well, McCarthy, Raycroft and old Joan, 
I hope when next we meet again this land will be our 

own. 
May every robber landlord from Cork to Donegal, 
Get little rent throughout the land, and may more 

tyrants fall ; 
May God deny them shelter in our own Isle of Green, 
Long life to you, both one and all, good people of 

Goleen ! 



120 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

A YEAR SINCE THEN. 

One year has passed and gone since I was left alone, 
My fondest love, my cherished hope, to heaven from 

me has flown. 
I miss her gentle footsteps, her voice so sweet and 

mild, 
With heavy heart I think of her as tender as a child. 
Her picture hangs upon the wall, her music still is 

there. 
The keys she loved so well to touch, also the vacant 

chair. 

How fondly I recall to mind those happy days gone by, 
I knew no care nor sorrow then, each hour I did enjoy ; 
My only thought was of my love, my joy, my heart's 

delight, 
The sweetest soul that ever lived, an angel pure and 

bright. 
Her spirit sweet doth hover o'er our once happy home. 
Where she as fair as e'er she was in dreams to me doth 

come. 

The cloud that now hangs o'er me I'll suffer for her 

sake. 
Though gloomy hours I've spent, since God from me 

did take 
The dearest one that ever lived, a mother and a wife, 
Who was a treasure in herself before she gave her life 
To the "Father of the Fathers" to keep her in his care. 
Fully resigned to His good will, I never will despair. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 121 

UNITY. 

Oh, Motherland! pray cast aside your bigotry and 
pride ; 

Sure we were born on your soil and should stand side 
by side. 

Some may go to chapel and some the other way; 

What matter when before one God we all kneel down 
to pray? 

We know but one true God who watches o'er us all ; 

Then why not we united be and make the tyrants fall ? 

Then grasp the Orange by the hand and let us all unite 

And soon we'll have our own again despite all Eng- 
land's might. 



If we are once united, no power could us subdue, 
Nor slave our conscience mar for to Ireland we'd be 
true; 

The Green and Gold we will unfold, united we will 

stand. 
To strike for home and liberty in dear old Ireland. 
Let all go where they think is best and worship there 

their God, 

And then we'll strike for liberty on our own native 
sod. 

We know no sect, we know no king, but bow to God 
on high. 

To stand by Ireland and her cause, prepared to do or 
die. 



122 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Let Ulster shake the brawny hand of Leinster o'er the 
Boyne, 

And Mayo shake with rebel Cork, all provinces en- 
twine. 

We know no south, we know no north, to Ireland we'll 
be true, 

No matter where we go to pray, for you, dear land, for 
you. 

Then brothers grasp each other's hands from the Shan- 
non to the Boyne, 

And let your toast be unity, and freedom yet will shine. 

Let pope and parson go their way, with them we have 
no fight, 

But strike for Ireland's holy cause, and that with all 
your might. 



THE SISTER OF MERCY. 

She gave up friends and parents dear, the dance and 

banquet hall. 
And now you'll find her w^th the sick, where duty doth 

her call ; 
She soothes them with her gentle voice, relieves them 

of the pain. 
She asks no pay for night or day, for she is all humane. 
She never shirks from pestilence or plague of any kind. 
But loves to help the feeble ones, she is so sweet and 

mild. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 123 

She goes through all the battlefields, no danger does 

she fear. 
And to the dying soldiers she whispers words of cheer. 



She brings relief to sick and dying, though her own life 

is at stake, 
And goes through all the pest-houses, God's angels in 

the wake. 
When a plague is epidemic, she's always in the van. 
And for the stricken victims she does the best she can. 
The wounded she takes care of and soothes their 

aching pain. 
And when they're dying in the field, with them she 

does remain. 
Amid the thickest of the fight, when the cannon loud 

doth roar, 
You'll find the Sister at her post, though shot and shell 

may pour. 

She never thinks of death while she is at her post, 
She knows no sect, she knows no fear, you'd never hear 

her boast. 
She's gentle and kind-hearted, treats rich and poor the 

same, 
She lives within the convent walls and Mercy is her 

name. 
The orphans and the wayward ones, of them she will 

take care, 
Her trust is in her God above for him to do and dare. 



124 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

She goes among the wounded and the dead upon the 

field, 
Her own Hfe she would sacrifice before that she would 

yield. 

No more she's in the ballroom, the theater or street, 
In the sickroom or the hospital each day you will her 

meet. 
Her dress is of the plainest, her cross and beads also, 
The emblem of her faith protects, no matter where she 

go- 
The rich and poor respect her, they're glad to have her 

call, 
When e'er there's sickness in their homes she visits one 

and all. 
When her hard day's work is over she spends long time 

in prayer. 
For with the Mercy Sister no lady can compare. 

She gives up all earthly pleasure of bright and happy 
days, 

God's angels watching o'er her while she serves him 
always. 

She never dwells on pleasant hours spent in her child- 
hood home. 

But goes wherever God doth call when his command 
doth come. 

The Bible is her novel, the convent is her music hall. 

The medicine her wine cup where duty does her call. 

To dress the wounds of many with manner sweet and 
kind. 

None like this noble woman in this world you will find. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 125 

ON BOARD THE "MAJESTIC " 

(September 3, 1901.) 

O'er foam-capped waves our gallant bark darts on be- 
fore the wind, 

And bears us from our motherland that we must leave 
behind; 

The Stars and Stripes are looming up and liberty is 
there, 

There is no nation on this earth with America can 
compare. 

CHORUS. 

Sailing home, sailing home, across the deep blue sea, 

Sailing to Columbia, the land of libert}' ; 
Sailing home, sailing home, across the deep blue sea. 

Sailing to Columbia, the land of liberty. 

Distinguished men there are on board whom I have 

met before. 
Dr. Rushton, Captain Kelly and Hanley of Glenore ; 
Meyers famed of Toronto, a worthy man I trow. 
With illustrious young Nelson and Dr. Moore also. 

Soon we'll see Nantucket and Montauk Point you 

know, 
Sandy Hook and Bay Ridge, with Liberty aglow ; 
That gift of gallant Frenchmen, known both far and 

wide. 
From here to St. Helena, where their greatest hero 

died. 



136 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

You may boast about old Europe and antique scenes 

galore, 
Jerusalem and Palestine, Euphrates and Glandore ; 
But give to me the Stars and Stripes, none with them 

can compare, 
Columbians noble emblem, the fairest of the fair. 



CAPTURE OF LORD METHUEN IN SOUTH 

AFRICA. 

Oh ! Johnnie, dear, and did you hear the news through- 
out the land? 

Delary captured Lord Methuen away down on the Rand. 

His baggage, mules and oxen all went on the stampede, 

Paul Kruger should feel proud of such a noble deed. 

He fought them from the dawn of day until the sun 
went down, 

And captured all his aides-de-camp and minions of the 
Crown. 

McBride I'm sure must have been there along with 
gallant Blake, 

The plans were laid by Irishmen the English ranks to 
break. 

Oh ! Johnnie, dear, keep silent, don't let the Irish know. 
For they would like to see us whipped from here to 
Aherlow. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 127 

Those Irish Connaught rangers have caused King Ned 
to fret. 

Afraid they would desert him and fight with brave 
De Wet. 

The Dublin Fusiliers and Inniskillen corps 

No more will fight in Africa against the gallant Boer. 

Miss Gonne has stopped enlisting from Cork to Belfast 
town, 

No more recruits King Ned can get to guard his blood- 
stained Crown. 



Oh ! Johnnie, dear, what must we do to end this cruel 

war? 
I'd go down to South Africa if it were not so far. 
They say McBride and Blake are there, and that keeps 

me at home, 
Around my own fireside at night from there I will not 

roam. 
Some scattered children of the Gael are fighting side 

by side. 
Along with brave DeLarey, De Wet and John McBride. 
I wish that Cecil Rhodes, Joe Chamberlain and Co., 
Doc. Jameson and Salisbury stealing did not go. 



For they have ruined our commerce and credit far and 

wide, 
At home in dear old England and o'er the swelling tide. 



128 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Our army now is in disgrace, Britannia rules no more, 
That flag that braved a thousand years defeat has met 

galore. 
Those Clan-na-Gaels and Graunawales have sworn to 

pull down 
The Union Jack v^here'er they can in spite of King or 

Crown. 
They think the Boer's cause like their own, that both of 

them are right, 
I wish that we gave them Home Rule to try and keep 

them quiet. 



I wish that Salisbury had sense to promise them Home 

Rule, 
And then when peace it was proclaimed those traitors 

he could fool. 
Just like the promise written on Limerick's treaty 

stone. 
You know we stole their lands from them and claimed 

them as our own. 
Some people say that God is just and watches o'er us 

all. 
And that's the reason I'm afraid our empire will soon 

fall. 
You know we robbed the Irish for seven hundred 

years. 
And now our cause is lost to us, we have no volunteers.* 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 129 

A SHAMROCK FROM IRELAND. 

There's a little plant that grows throughout old Erin's 

Isle, 
'Tis the emblem of our Fatherland and dear to the 

exile. 
The dearest plant in all this earth, to Irishmen a prize. 
'Twas planted by vSt. Patrick, the Druids to civilize. 
McCarthy sent it o'er the sea to fair Columbia's shore, 
That pretty little sprig of green, the Shamrock from 

Dromore. 

He sent it in a latter and sealed it with his hand. 
In memory of St. Patrick from dear old Ireland. 
To me it is far dearer than the thistle or the rose, 
For only in old Ireland that little emblem grows. 
When I beheld its precious leaves I kissed it o'er and 

o'er, 
That pretty little sprig of green, the Shamrock from 

Dromore. 

Oh, how I love that little plant no tongue but mine can 

tell. 
The emblem of my native land, the shamrock of the 

dell. 
I wore it on St. Patrick's Day in my brand new 

caubeen. 
In the city of Los Angeles, in spite of king or queen. 
Although it came six thousand miles, I cherish it the 

more; 
That pretty little sprig of green, the Shamrock from 

Dromore. 



130 . BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Crook Haven grows that little plant, and also Skib- 

bereen, 
True men are there to do and dare from Bandon to 

Goleen ; 
McCarthy and Tim Sheehy, Raycroft and Jack Shea, 
Are patiently awaiting and ready for the fray, 
And would defend that priceless gem 'gainst any Saxon 

corps — 
That pretty little sprig of green, the Shamrock from 

Dromore. 

That sacred little emblem from me will never part. 

In memory of St. Patrick's Day I'll wear it next my 

heart. 
Its three leaves will remind me of Faith and Father- 
land, 
And why St. Patrick planted it despite a pagan band 
He planted it 'mong Irishmen where heathens were 

galore. 
That pretty little sprig of green, the Shamrock from 
Dromore. 

The daughters of old Erin that emblem too doth love, 
They wear it on St. Patrick's Day, and red with green 

above 
In their silken, wavy hair, entwined with it is seen. 
In memory of their patron saint and Erin, their loved 

green. 
They love their native country, and all of them adore 
That pretty little sprig of green, the Shamrock from 

Dromore. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 131 

A VISIT TO THE OLD FOLKS' GRAVE. 

There is one spot in Ireland that's ever dear to me, 
Most sacred of all other scenes that overlook the sea. 
It is not far from Galley Head, known both far and 

wide. 
Where you can hear the ocean roar at the ebbing of 

the tide. 
The green grass was thick and tall when I knelt there 

to pray, 
Which makes it dearer far to me in foreign lands away. 
To see that spot since boyhood it was my daily crave, 
At last God granted me that wish — to see m}^ parents' 

grave. 



One died while I was young in years on the broad At- 
lantic foam, 
Returning to his sick bedside in my dear native home. 
My mother's spirit, too, has fled to that celestial shore 
Where all will meet some future day where sorrow is 

no more. 
In Ardfield Graveyard both their bodies lie. 
And often in the silent night my thoughts there to doth 

fly- ■ 

The green grass and the shamrock above their bones 
doth wave. 

That place is always dear to me, my parents' Irish 
grave. 



132 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Three sisters, too, were buried there when they were 

young in years, 
And kneeHng o'er their resting place could not allay 

my tears. 
As I knelt there to pray for them and kith and kin 

around, 
I thought of how old Ireland by alien chains was 

bound; 
1 saw the ancient castles once held by Irish chiefs, 
Who fought and bled defending them and struggling 

for her griefs. 
The robbers came and plundered and did us all enslave. 
Not far from where I planted flowers above my 

parents' grave. 



WHY I'M SAD. 



In a city by the seaside, 'mid the happy and the gay, 

'Midst the peals of joy and laughter, I would fain be 
far away ; 

What's the matter? Once our comrade of happy by- 
gone days. 

You seem downcast, yes, and sullen, you were with us 
. once always. 

You oft joined us in the evening in the ballroom and 
the hall. 

Tell us truly what's the matter, you don't seem your- 
. self at all. 

Can it be there is a woman — as is often — in the case, 

A smile that tells of sadness is now upon your face. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 133 

Why do you talk of sadness? Perhaps you do not 

know 
What it is to lose a dear one who an angel was also ; 
Wlien you stroll along the valley with no one by your 

side, 
You will think of days you spent with her, your loved 

one and your pride ; 
Who shared with you your troubles and tried to make 

them small. 
Never flinching night or morning when duty did her 

call. 
Yes, there was a woman, through the struggle and the 

strife. 
Whom I loved next to God above, for twenty years my 

wife. 

'Tis true I may seem sad to you and in your sports not 

join, 
But my thoughts were of the loved one, whose love 

was always mine ; 
And though she's numbered with the dead, her mem'ry 

still is dear, 
Methinks I hear a gentle voice now ringing in my ear. 
Then how could I light-hearted be or mingle in the 

throng. 
When I think of her, my sweet one, and of her sweetest 

song? 
So never ask me if there was a woman in the case. 
Yes, there was a precious treasure, and none may take 

her place. 



134 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

MY FIRST VISIT TO GOUGANE BARRA. 

We started for Gougane a goodly Sunday party, 
Kelleher and Creeds and also Miss McCarty. 
We left that ancient town adjacent to the bay, 
To visit valleyed Desmond that pleasant summer's day. 
That day will be remembered, a jolly crowd was there, 
The ladies were of Irish birth with faces fresh and fair. 
We drove through Main and New streets, too, 
And up the hills toward Newton flew. 



We journeyed on with lightning speed, 
By woodland dell, by field and mead. 
By crags and peaks and meadows too. 
Lending enchantment to the view. 
Burke Roach and wife in stately mien. 
With O'Sullivan Beare, our village queen. 
The ladies acted well their part. 
As our cart careered due west by north. 



Old Kealkill, picturesque and grand. 
With Newton's cove and pearly strand ; 
Baulin peaks and hills so high. 
Just like the sunbeams passing by. 
Then through the pass we gently glide. 
With mountain peaks on every side. 
You'd think you saw the Rockies there,. 
Or Shasta's peaks high in the air. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 135 

Such scenes as these are seldom seen 
By tourists anywhere I ween, 
The Sunday I drove through the glen, 
With ladies fair and gentlemen ; 
You'd think you saw Lord Bantry there, 
With all his staff I do declare. 
O'SuUivan Beare looked like a queen, 
The fairest on the village green. 



Miss Lyons and sister, charrriing, too, 
Sang the old songs as well as new; 
Their brother, too, did sweetly sing, 
While O'Connor made the valley ring 
With his elocution and warlike cry 
When he recited famed Fontenoy. 
O'Brien, who lately crossed the sea, 
Encored and cheered him earnestly. 



Farewell Gougane Barra, known both far and near, 

I'd rather visit you than any English shire. 

Your hills and vales and fields so green. 

Cannot be equalled in the sheen ; 

Your stalwart sons and maids so fair 

Bring credit to you everywhere. 

I wish that I could once more see 

The purling streams that feed the Lee. 



136 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

AN APPEAL TO IRELAND. 

(Victoria and Her Son Ned.) 

(3h, Ireland ! Will you welcome him to your hos- 
pitable shore ? 

He comes now with the oHve branch, as he has done 
before ; 

He knew our kith and kin were robbed of homes, of 
lands and all, 

His mother gave us bayonets, buckshot and cannon 
ball. 

Just think of all our people from Tyrone to Skibbereen, 

Buried without coffins, though subjects of the Queen; 

Dying for the want of food she took from them away, 

While famine raged throughout the land from Down 
to Bantry Bay. 

Her deeds are well recorded 'way down on the Rand, 
As well as in .old Ireland with torch and blood-stained 

hand; 
Think of the Manchester martyrs, her voice could set 

them free. 
Their crime was love of country in fight for liberty. 
Tim Cadogan, a farmer's son, the King said he should 

die, 
For the killing of a nasty Bird, upon the gallows 

high ; 
When the gallant sons of Carbery called out for Tim's 

reprieve, 
Ned said ''The Packer" wanted blood, and Tim's life 

was made brief. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 137 

Just think of all the cabins that were leveled in her 
reign, 

And the sons and daughters of our race forced to cross 
the main; 

Remember forty-seven and sixty-seven, too. 

How Mitchel and brave Rossa were treated for being 
true. 

They had to leave old Ireland, that fair land of the fair. 

That Britain plundered, ravaged, with Ned prospective 
heir; 

Now he succeeds his mother, by whom his plans were 
laid. 

Oh, Erin ! Will you welcome him with his blood- 
stained brigade ? 



If you do you'll shame the memory of the men of 

forty-eight, 
Who fought and bled for Ireland till forced to 

emigrate ; 
Just think of Captain Mackey, how he kept the foe at 

bay, 
And noble Eddie Duffy, whose life blood ebbed away 
Within the walls and prison bars away from home so 

dear, 
With none to press his cold white hand and none to 

give him cheer; 
In a foul and filthy English jail they tortured him to 

death, 
Victoria was the reigning Queen who took away his 

breath. 



138 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Oh, Erin ! Are your sons so base to welcome to your 

shore 
The rake who swore your Church was wrong now and 

for evermore; 
The despoiler of once happy homes that he helped to 

pull down? 
He ordered out his hirelings, the minions of the Crown, 
To get rack rents for absentees to Spitalfields to go, 
To spend in vile debauchery, as many of you know. 
Now he throws out the bait to the sons of Garryowen, 
But Ned, agra, you are too late, your tricks are too well 

known. 



You hanged a farmer's gallant son the first week of 

your reign. 
So Ned, avick, take my advice and with your wife re- 
main ; 
The Irish girls are virtuous, that you know full well, 
You found that out when there before as history will 

tell. 
Take lessons from the past, you know you were not 

slow. 
Except when Ireland was at stake that country well 

does know ; 
In vile debauch you spent your cash, for Ireland none 

to spare ; 
And think you'll fool them once again by starting with 

the fair. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 139 

The Irish are a generous race, but for you they have no 

use, 
You helped to rob and plunder them and heaped on 

them abuse ; 
You sowed the seeds of discord throughout old Erin's 

Isle, 
When you took your anti-papist oath, the vilest of the 

vile; 
Perhaps you thought you'd find the Celts v^ould look 

to you for hope. 
Because you went to Italy to interview the Pope. 



THE IRISH VOLUNTEER'S FAREWELL TO 

HIS MOTHER. 

"Oh, mother, dear, can it be true what I have heard 
to-day ? 

Is Kitchener burning women down in South Africa? 

And starving mothers carrying babes, no clothes to 
keep them warm? 

No food to eat, no place to sleep, for he has seized the 
farm?" 

"Alas, alas, 'tis true, my child, all nations seem afraid, 

While England plies the lighted torch with her blood- 
stained brigade." 

"I wish I were a man, mamma. I may do something 
yet, 

I then would go to Africa and fight with brave De 
Wet." 



140 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

''Ma gra machree, ma'bouchil oge, though sad I now 

rejoice 
To think that I have reared a son with such a manly 

voice. 
A sorrowing woman I have been since your brave father 

died, 
But if he were aHve to-day you'd be his joy and pride. 
He was murdered in old Ireland by minions of the 

Crown, 
Defending our once happy home till Peelers pulled it 

down. 
Those cowardly dogs they murdered him, for they 

were ten to one; 
And a pike he carried, boy, from Swilly to the Bann." 

"Oh, mother, come and tell me, and sit down by my 

side; 
That maybe in South Africa I'd join with John 

McBride. 
If you get me a Mauser I'll smite the tyrant low ; 
You know that soon I'll be sixteen, I'm not too young 

to go. 
You say papa was murdered by soldiers of the Queen, 
When fighting in old Ireland did he wear a suit of 

green ? 
If I get close to Kitchener — that Irish renegade — 
I'll put a bullet in his brain, my plans will be well laid. 

"I'll go before the captain and grasp him by the hand ; 
He'll send me to DeLarey, on the veldt or on the Rand. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 141 

I can swim the great Tugela, I can ride across the 

plain, 
I can bivouac with Botha through all his fierce 

campaign. 
Now, mother, give your blessing, for I vow to God on 

high, 
I'll go to fight with Botha, prepared to do or die ; 
I'll avenge the death of papa, no danger do I fear. 
But I want a mother's blessing before I volunteer." 



She took her darling by the hand and stroked his flaxen 

hair, 
And pressed him closer to her heart, saying: "Now, go, 

do and dare; 
You have your mother's blessing, may God's be with 

you, too, 
And when you fight with brave De Wet, to motherland 

be true ; 
And when you see that blood-stained flag of England's 

King and Queen, 
Strike home and well for Innisfail, our native isle so 

green ; 
Remember all the miseries by English tyrants made; 
God bless you now, my only son, of death be not 

afraid." 



"Farewell, mamma, I'll think of you at morning, noon 

and night, 
Till^ I return to you again, your joy and heart's delight. 



142 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

A cowardly son you never reared, that now I promise 

you, 
I'll face the foe through shot and shell, like father I'll 

be true; 
And should I perish in the fray, think of the son who 

died 
Fighting for the gallant Boers, who was his mother's 

pride, 
Against the Kerry Butcher, a traitor to our land. 
God grant that I may meet him soon away down on the 

Rand." 



THE BELLE OF INGLESIDE. 

I met her in her native State, 

Not many months ago. 
The bloom of youth was on her face 

And milk white skin of snow. 
Her golden hair hung o'er her back. 

And eyes were sparkling bright, 
When first I met this charming girl, 

My joy and heart's delight. 
And though I leave her far behind 

And seas may us divide. 
While life is left I'll ne'er forget 

The Belle of Ingleside. 

How sad it is to part with one 
That is so dear to me. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 143 

Through glen and vale, o'er hill 

And dale and o'er life's stormy sea, 
I wish her all the joys of life, 

Health and wealth galore, 
And long to see the face once more 

Of her whom I adore. 
She's fairer than the early dawn 

Or sun at eventide. 
The sweetest girl I ever met. 

The Belle of Ingleside. 

Now fare thee well my precious one, 

To you 1 will be true. 
While life remains in this poor heart 

'Twill beat alone for you. 
And should we never meet again, 

No matter where I be, 
I'll ne'er forget the happy hours 

Spent in your company. 
When we went through the Golden Gate 

To take a carriage ride. 
She looked far sweeter than the flowers — 

The Belle of Ingleside. 

The lilies and the daisies, and violets 

In the dell 
Could not compare with one so fair 

The truth to you to tell. 
And though she's in her tender years, 

The subject of my theme, 



144 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

She holds my heart both night and 
Day and haunts me hke a dream. 

I whispered words of love to her 
As wx sat side by side 

'Neath the sun-kissed hills of Emmery — 
The Belle of Ingleside. 

I know she'll not forget the past 

Although far, far away. 
She'll take me to her heart again 

When we meet in the Bay. 
And when these longing eyes see hers 

Of azure blue, 
She^ll seem as fresh again to me, 

Just as the morning dew ; 
And if perchance we meet again, 

My treasure and my pride, 
I'll press her closer to my heart, 

The Belle of Ingleside. 



LOS ANGELES, CAL. 

These fertile plains and valleys grow the orange and 

the vine, 
The fig tree and the olive, too, the blue gums and the 

pine; 
This climate it surpasses all, even France and sunny 

Spain, 
But give to me old Erin's Isle, I ne'er may see again. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 145 

I often dream of you, asthore, your fields so fresh and 

green, 
Your smiling vales, your crags and peaks, the grandest 

ever seen ; 
The hours I spent I felt content beside your flowing 

tide, 
And the colleen dass I loved so well doth oft run in 

my mind. 

I know right well she thinks of me, though on a for- 
eign shore, 
Gra gal machree, ma colleen dass, I ne'er may see you 

more; 
I know full well she looked for me many times in vain, 
And I would give this world if we could only meet 

again. 

And though salt seas doth us divide, to me you're ever 

dear. 
Your rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes, far off as well 

as near; 
My life I freely would give up if it would ever be, 
That God decreed my native land like this one should 

be free. 

Though this soil is rich and beautiful and fragrance 

fills the air. 
The snow-clad hills and mountain peaks with Erin's 

can't compare; 
The daisies and primroses that blossom in the dell, 
Killarney Lakes and Bantry Bay, Pacific plains excel. 

10 



146 BI^TH AND ADOPTION. 

ROOSEVELT'S CHARGE. 

''Onward !" shouted Roosevelt with his bronzed and 
rugged face, 

As his steed dashed up the mountain with a sure and 
steady pace. 

O'Neill was close behind him, a descendant of Owen 
Roe, 

When a bullet in the forehead, fired from ambush, laid 
him low. 

''Onward ! March for Santiago," Teddy Roosevelt 
boldly cried, 

While shot and shell flew quick around, laying com- 
rades by his side. 

Shafter led his gallant forces to El Caney through 

the hills. 
Assisted by Rough Riders dashing over dykes and rills. 
When Raf¥erty charged through the crags our victory 

seemed plain. 
For we could hear the slogan, "Remember, boys, the 

'Maine' !" 
"See the swarthy Toral coming," Colonel Wood was 

heard to say, 
"With his ragged dagoes crawling from the trenches 

where they lay." 

In a flash as quick as lightning Roosevelt's horse was 

seen to fall. 
And a cry rang through the mountain, "He is dead !" — 

so thought we all. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 147 

But grasping his revolver he dashed on without his 
steed, 

Crying out, ''Come on ! Come on, my boys ! our coun- 
try now has need 

Of all who have a spark of life ! Behold our comrades 
slain ; 

Avenge them and the gallant men who perished in the 
'Maine.' " 



"Remember Sigbee's battleship," Brodie brave did say, 
"Likewise our gallant comrades, now in Manila Bay." 
A cheer for gallant Hamilton was given with a will, 
And also for the Seventy-first while marching up the 

hill; 
And Hamilton Fish, the brave young man who fell be- 
fore San Juan, 
Soldiers, sailors, all of them, adored him to a man. 



Old Glory now most proudly floats o'er many foreign 
lands, 

And planted high on Morro walls by valiant hearts 
and hands. 

Should Bull or Bear or Kaiser dare to trifle with our 
flag 

We will show quick what we can do to any blood- 
stained rag. 

Our sailors and our soldiers can fight on land and sea, 

As they have done in Cuba to set the people free. 



148 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Roose"velt, brave Dewey, Schley and Hobson, too, 
Are not afraid of monarch's power or any foreign 

crew. 
When Theodore is President, as he is sure to be. 
With Dewey in the navy, then we'll chase them from 

the sea. 
Long life to Teddy Roosevelt and his gallant cavalry, 
Whose blows at Santiago were struck for liberty. 



CALIFORNIA'S WELCOME TO PRESIDENT 
ROOSEVELT. 

Thrice welcome to the nation's Chief from the Golden 

West I write, 
From North and South, from East and West, to greet 

you we unite. 
We know no party, we know no clan, all hail our 

Chieftain brave. 
Who burst in twain the yoke and chain, and freedom 

gave the slave. 
He was foremost in the battle van that set the Cubans 

free. 
And left his home and tender babes to strike for liberty. 
He's our country's choice we all know well throughout 

Columbia's shore. 
And we'll elect him once again as we have done before. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 149 

O'er the Sierras to our city he comes with goodly 

speed, 
God's angels watching in his wake, our country doth 

him need ; 
He fears no foe, he fears no power except that One on 

high, 
His watchword is America and for that land would die. 
His heart is full of charity for those who are oppressed; 
No friend is he of tyranny, that oft he has expressed; 
He knows no clan, he knows no sect, is to his country 

true, 
And only knows one nation's flag, our own red, white 

and blue. 



Cead mi-le failtha once again from Frisco's Golden 

Gate, 
One million voices join with mine to welcome you in 

state. 
Long may your life be spared to us and those you love 

so dear; 
While you are in the White House no danger do we 

fear; 
Through you we'll have a navy and gunboats soon to 

spare, 
And then no nation on this earth with this one can 

compare. 
Hip! hip ! hurrah ! he comes to-day, the greatest chi^f 

of all ; 
Sing loud his praise and life-long days in house and 
banquet hall. 



150 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

CALIFORNIA. 

In the land of wreaths and sunshine, out in the golden 

West, 
Are the homes of many exiles whom foreign laws 

opprest. 
You'll meet them here from Italy, from France and 

sunny Spain, 
From Germany and Switzerland, from far across the 

main, 
The Russian and the Hollander, the Swede and Norman, 

too. 
The sons and daughters of the Gael, to Erin always 

true. 
Oppressions and plutocracy, despotic laws and 

monarchy. 
They could not bear quite patiently, so they left home 

for liberty. 

The Finlander and Icelander have followed in their 

train, 
The Hebrew, Greek and Polander, the rough and 

rugged Dane; 
The Austro-Hungarian, the Slav and Portugee, 
The Belgian and the Norseman whose homes are on the 

sea. 
The Scotchman with his brawny hands you will find 

here also. 
Sometimes digging for the gold, you know he is not 

slow. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 151 

The Arab from Arabia you will in the Far West find. 
They could not live in their own homes so left them 
far behind. 

From Servia, Herzegovina, Turkey and Siam, 
Macedonia and South Africa, China and Japan ; 
Singapore, Hawaii, South Seas and Java, too ; 
Corea, Persia, Russia, Burmah and Timbuctoo ; 
Morocco, Madagascar, Madeira, the Azores, 
And the dusky sons of Mexico, our friends, but once 

our foes; 
Our banner now floats o'er them all, no matter who 

they be, 
'Twas planted by George Washington, who made this 

country free. 

There is no place for tyrants here, so let them dare to 
come, 

We have no use for absentees in this our future home; 

We have no use for kings or queens, so let them under- 
stand 

This is the freeman's only 'home from every foreign 
land. 

The rich and poor are equal here, thank God for 
liberty ; 

The West is now inhabited by those who would be 
free. 

All now comply with native laws, established by the 
sword. 

And freedom smiles on every face trusting in one God. 



nr BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

And should a call to arms ring, 'tis then we would 

unite, 
And march beneath Old Glory to fight with all our 

might ; 
The Dutchman and the Irishman, the Scotchman and 

the Dane, 
The Frenchman and the Polander and the swarthy son 

of Spain, 
Would march beneath that banner that no power dare 

■ assail. 
With Roosevelt foremost in the van with soldiers of 

; the Gael, 
The Hessian and the Saxon, and the Dago in the rear, 
We'd sweep from off the universe, for we can do and 

dare. 



Let -Germany with all her ships and Hoch the Kaiser, 

too, 
England and the Dagoes, that blood-stained hireling's 

crew. 
Let them come out by day or night, we'll chase them 

■from the sea> 
With Roosevelt and brave Dewey, who fought for 

liberty. 
We showed John Bull what we could do 'way back in 

seventy-six. 
Since then we have grown older and up to all his 

• tricks; 
Let Italy and Germany, England and Japan 
Call oiit their forces any day, we'll lick them to a man. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 153 

And if that hour should ever come, just at the bugle's 

call 
The people from the nations would rally one and all. 
Then all would be Americans and by that banner stand, 
" 'Twas planted by George Washington throughout 

this glorious land ; 
'Tis the emblem of our country and never will come 

down,'' 
We place our trust in Providence, in valley, hill and 

town. 
Let the Britons nov\^ blockade and their piracy pursue. 
We'll make them keep their hands off our own red, 

white and blue. 



A TRIP TO HONOLULU. 

Roll on, my gallant bark, thro' foam-capped waves and 

wind. 
Though you bear me from fondest friends that I must 

leave behind; 
And now upon the boundless deep as billows 'round 

me swell, 
I. whisper back to those I love a parting fond farewell. 
It may be weeks, it may be months, ere we shall meet 

again. 
But I'll be true to eyes of blue on land or on the main. 
So Kathleen, dear, cheer up your heart undaunted do 

thou be, 
I'll count the days, I'll count the hours, till I return to 

thee. 



154 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Chorus. 
Sailing, sailing, on the "Siberia," 
Sailing, sailing, from San Francisco Bay; 
Sailing, sailing, on the ocean crest. 
Sailing, sailing, from the Golden West. 

And though in distant lands I be, far, far away from 

home, 
My thoughts will be of you, dear heart, no matter 

where I roam. 
['11 keep you in my memory morning, noon and night. 
Till I'll return to you again my joy and heart's delight. 
It may be in Hawaii, it may be in Hong Kong, 
It may be in Manila, mingling in the throng. 
Blow on you winds and carry back to those I love so 

well 
My future hopes of brighter days in happiness to dwell. 

The flying-fish and porpoise I see swimming with the 

tide, 
The sea-gulls and the albatross are on the ocean wide. 
Though the waves are high as mountains, no danger 

do we fear. 
With a captain brave and joll}^ crew our stately ship to 

steer. 
The storm now is o'er, the sun is shining bright. 
All hands are on the promenade, with faces smiling 

bright. 
We're bound for Honolulu, the land of sugar cane, 
But I'll return before it's long and home with you 

remain. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 155 



KING NED'S SPECIAL DISPENSATION. 

Oh, Paddy did you hear the news throughout old Erin's 
Isle? 

Ned took the Anti-Papist Oath, the vilest of the vile. 

He denounced the Pope and Cardinals, the Priests and 
Bishops, too. 

And swore they were idolators, a superstitious crew. 

And now the Pope rewards him with a special dis- 
pensation, 

To eat meat on a Friday, the day of his coronation. 

Sure Paddy, dear, I would not let my dog eat it at 
home, 

Although I got permission from the Holy Church at 
Rome. 



When I was in old Ireland, some thirty years ago. 
To eat it on a Friday would send me down below. 
But times have changed since then, avic, the Pope 

prayed for the Queen, 
Who murdered men and women from Tyrone to Skib- 

bereen. 
If I got it three times a week, I'd ask for it no more, 
And never would I emigrate from poor old Erin's 

shore. 
Vaughan and Rampollo, Norfolk and his clan, 
Care no more for old Ireland than I do for Japan. 



158 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Faith, Mike, I think it was a shame to grant the King 

permission 
To feed his subjects on flesh meat the day of its 

omission. 
Although it was no law of God, sure you and^ I know 

well, 
To eat it on that day we thought would send us 

straight to hell. 
And now just after mocking us, and our clergy true 

and tried, 
Vaughan and Rampollo the whole thing would decide. 
And now throughout old Ireland the gluttons of the 

Crown 
Can say the King is next to God in city and in town. 

God knows then, Pat, avic, machree, I would not be sur- 
prised 

If they made Vaughan Pope of Rome by means they 
have devised. 

You know by grant of Adrian against the Irish cause. 

He killed and plundered all our kin, sustained by Eng- 
lish laws. 

If Ned could now control the Pope, to Rome he would 
be true, 

Och, the blood is boiling in my veins, what would poor 
Ireland do? 

Sure if we kept back Peter's pence and sent no more to 
Rome, 

You'd hear a howl from Vaughan & Co, throughout 
our native home. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 157 

Sure Pat, Ned said the Pope was wrong, Lord's supper 

was a lie, 
The Mass was superstitious and Leo did defy. 
The Pope knew all about this oath taken by King Ned, 
But the feasting was postponed a bit, the King was 

sick in bed. 
Still from the Propaganda the dispensation came. 
To eat meat on a Friday, the Pope affixed his name. 
So all his Irish subjects who were loyal to the Crown, 
Could feed on meat upon that day, from Cork to 

County Down. 

Now, Pat, what do you think of that, pray tell me if 

you can. 
Don't you think they insulted us right from the 

Vatican? 
Sure, if the Pope took such an oath against the English 

Church, 
They'd raise a cry throughout the land and leave us in 

a lurch. 
Begorra, Pat, I thought to-day this world was all a 

stage. 
And Priest and Pope could play their part from child- 
hood to old age. 
God knows, agra, we have been true to the Holy Church 

of Rome, 
Though England killed our kith and kin and drove us 

from our home. 



158 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

ON SEEING A BEAUTIFUL IRISH GIRL TAK- 
ING A LAST FAREWELL OF HER AGED 
MOTHER. 

(Scene: Bantry, August, 1901.) 

One day in dear old Ireland, I never shall forget, 

My heart was filled with sadness, my eyes with tears 

were wet, 
As I saw the gray-haired mother taking a last farewell, 
And press the child close to her heart, a sad tale 'tis to 

tell. 
She knew that she would ne'er again her loving child 

embrace. 
For she was going across the sea with thousands of 

her race, 
And forced to leave her home by cursed alien laws, 
But true to faith and motherland and Ireland's holy 

cause. 



I saw the mother in a swoon as the daughter went 

away. 
She gave a long and anxious look at dear old Bantry 

Bay, 
"Slaun lat,'' said she, "Acushla asthore machree. 
My blessing go along Avith you to your new country. 
Think of your father in his grave, beside him I'll soon 

be. 
How sad it is that you must go across the deep blue 

sea. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 159 

Farewell, farewell, once more my child, I'll ne'er see 

you again. 
For you are leaving kith and kin to dwell across the 

main. 

"Oh, would that I could keep you now, in my declining 

years. 
How peacefully I'd close my eyes and wipe away my 

tears, 
But foul oppression forces you to leave your mother 

dear. 
That's robbed us of God-given rights and homes once 

happy here. 
'Tis sad to part with you, asthore, or one so good and 

pure. 
But for old Erin and her cause my troubles I'll endure. 
My daily prayers shall be for you while on the raging 

deep, 
Think of your mother dear who oft for you will weep." 

This scene I witnessed lately in famed old Bantry Bay, 
One morning as I took a stroll along the pier and quay. 
To see the gray-haired mother her tears flowed fast 

and free, 
For the daughter who was leaving for the land of liberty. 
The blood was boiling in my veins while gazing on the 

scene, 
To see my sister of the Gael leaving our isle of green. 
I saw out in the harbor, the English craft and crew. 
That forced the children of the Gael to cross the ocean 

blue. 



160 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

-For they protect the robbers who stole our land away, 
Which caused us all to leave our homes far, far from 

Bantry Bay. 
Oh, cruel alien hirelings, traitors to your soil. 
For you were bred on Irish earth and in slavery doth 

toil, 
You're the cause of Erin's loved ones being forced to 

emigrate. 
But soon, thank God, we'll take our stand and you 

exterminate, 
The sons and daughters of the Gael will then at home 

remain, 
For we will strike for libertv and freedom will obtain. 



May the mothers' cry for vengeance 'gainst cursed 

English laws 
Be heard throughout old Ireland for freedom's holy 

cause; 
May the grabber and the agents and soldiers of the 

crown, 
Get little rest by day or night and meet with scowl and 

frown; 
May emigration soon be stopped throughout old Erin's 

shore. 
And boys and girls remain at home from Goleen to 

Dromore ; 
May the mother's tears avenged soon be for her who 

sailed away 
And bid farewell to home and friends in dear old 

Bantry Bay. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 161 

GLENGARIFF'S LOVELY BAY. 

There is one spot in Ireland that's ever dear to me, 

Beside that ancient castle that overlooks the sea, 

Its antique walls and buttresses were built in days 

gone by. 
By the robbers and marauders who did our homes 

destroy. 
They robbed us of our priceless art we cherished night 

and day. 
With torch in hand a ruthless band destroyed Glen- 

gariff's lovely Bay. 

The tall oak and arbutus, the willow and the pine, 
The hemlock and the hazel you'll see them all entwine ; 
The primrose and the daisy bedeck the village green, 
The blackbird and the thrush and goldfinch too I ween. 
Their notes you'd hear re-echo anear or far away. 
There is no place throughout the earth Hke Glengariff's 
lovely Bay. 

The boys and girls are beautiful and none can them 

excel. 
At Hotel Roach you'll find fair maids, the fairest in the 

dell: 
Miss Lottie is the pride and Hly of the vale, 
A credit to her native land, my darling Innisfail. 
The Misses Roach are charming girls, that I can 

proudly S3.y, 
They'll ahvays greet you with a smile in Glengariff's 

lovely Bay. 

11 



162 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

At Vickery's and Roach's, in the Glen or in the Bay, 
You'll find no place to equal them, anear or far away; 
Miss Lannan and Miss Collins are as fair as I have 

seen 
In Bantry or Glengariff or Paris, too, I ween. 
The hours I spent in Glen and Vale, I think of night 

and day, 
And long to gaze once more upon Glengariff's lovely 

Bay. 

Now often in the stilly night my thoughts fly back to 
you, 

Where the sun-kissed hills and meadows green are 
moistened with your dew. 

The tourists who have seen your vales, claim none can 
you excel, 

Your mountain peaks and purling streams that mur- 
mur in the dell ; 

I've heard the echo in the Glen one pleasant summer 
day, 

Farewell, farewell, asthore machree, Glengariff's lovely 
Bay. 

Your shady groves and valleys are ever dear to me. 
Your scenery surpasses the Shannon or the Lee. 
The lilies and the violets and ivy green also. 
Lend enchantment to the view no matter where you go. 
You're the dearest spot on Irish soil ; in foreign lands 

away 
Wearily I long to see Glengariff's lovely Bay. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 163 

Now fare you well, Glengariff, acushla asthore 

machree, 
I'll ne'er forget your beauties in this land of liberty. 
Although I'm in a foreign land, you'll find no change 

in me, 
'Though I may never see you I'll keep you in memory. 
You're dearer far to me than Killarney or Lough Rea, 
.So let us weed out Cromwell's breed from Glengariff's 

lovely Bay. 



MY SECOND VISIT TO GOUGAN BARRA. 

By crags and peaks and idyllic scenes we journeyed on 

our way, 
From Kealkill to Gougan along with Jack O'Shea; 
The rain came like an avalanche and oh, how it did 

pour. 
As we drove through the pass that day in sight of 

Coumonore. 
We went through famed Keimaneigh, that old historic 

place. 
Where the yeomen met their Waterloo and King 

George did disgrace. 
Where the brawny sons of Kealkill, Snave and Braur- 

lin, too, 
Fought the minions of the Crov/n when shot like hail- 
stones fiew. 



164 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

We journeyed on through pouring rain, no danger did 

we fear, 
And when we reached the monastery we got a hearty 

cheer. 
Deep-valleyed Desmond looked so grand and lovely to 

behold. 
Where Munster's king once reigned supreme, defiantly 

and bold. 
The sources of the River Lee were murmuring in the 

vale. 
That sacred spot that's ne'er forgot in dear old Innis- 

fail. 
To see the little island church in Fin Bar's Monastery, 
And the purling streams rush down the rocks that fed 

the River Lee. 



After visiting that ancient place we steered our bark 

for home. 
The sights we saw we'll ne'er forget for many years to 

come. 
O'SuUivan and McCarthy, Lynch, O'Brien and Shea 
Sang that evening coming home from Gougan to the 

Bay: 
''AVhen the Harvest Days Are Over," then came ''Dolly 

Gray," 
"Mavourneen" and the "Irish Rose" and "Sailing 

Down the Bay" ; 
"Every Nation Has a Flag," that was well rendered, 

too; 
Also the "Starrv Banner," our own red, white and blue. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 165 

The tourists of that Sunday are scattered far and wide, 
Some in their homes on Irish soil, some o'er the ocean 

wide; 
Some now reside in Boston, down in the old Bay State, 
Where the tea was pitched into the sea, the taxes being 

too great. 
They were a jolly company, that day I'll ne'er forget, 
I've thought of it through gloomy hours, I'm thinking 

of it 3^et. 
Their songs re-echoed in the Pass as we drove from 

Gougan 
To Bantry Bay that August day and then to 

Collomane. 



THE IRISH BOER BRIGADE. 

M'Bride and Blake commanded the Irish Boer Brigade, 
Three thousand strong they marched along through 

valley, hill and glade. 
While being reviewed by Kruger, defiantly their mien. 
Their watchword Faugh-a-Ballagh, the boys who wore 

the green. 
How anxiously they waited their ancient foe to meet. 
With shrapnel, grape and cannister, equipments all 

complete. 

The bloody siege of Limerick, New Ross and Oulart 

Hill, 
Wolfe Tone and Robert Emmet, that made their 

heart's blood thrill, 



166 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

All anxious now to meet the foe and deal him blow for 

blow, 
And to avenge the bloody deeds of centuries ago. 
All Limerick's treaties broken that were promised, 

written, made, 
Now charge them, boys, and drive them back, brave Irish 

Boer Brigade. 

Although it is on African instead of Irish soil. 

Your hatred must be none the less for those who did 

despoil 
Our homes and lands and sacred rites in modern ages, 

too, 
And butcher men for worshipping their God above, so 

true. 
This is the land of missioners, of Bibles and of tracts, 
The hypocrite of nations, who annuls God's sacred acts. 

Oh, freemen of the world, behold this bloody strife, 
How England tries to crush the Boer and take away 

his life. 
High heaven gave him titles which no one dare assail. 
And miay God guide the bullets of the sons of Innisfail ; 
His home out of the wilderness with brawny arms he 

made, 
Defend him now and God will bless the Irish Boer 

Brigade. 

Remember forty-seven when famine did prevail. 
From Donegal in Ulster to Sherkin and Kinsale, 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 167 

How England took the food away to feed her Saxon 

crew, 
And let our people starve to death. Oh ! millions then 

they slew. 
Think of the waifs and widows by barbarous England 

made, 
From Donegal to Skibbereen, brave Irish Boer 

Brigade. 



Think of the men of forty-eight and sixty-seven, too, 
Bill Allen and Joe Brady, O'Brien and Duffy, too, 
Pete Crowley and Will Larkin, martyrs all did die, 
With gallant Michael Barrett, who did John Bull defy ; 
Now show the gallant Kruger the Gaels are not afraid 
Of fusilier or grenadier, brave Irish Boer Brigade. 



Think of the seven centuries of murder, the gallows 
and the jail. 

Our confiscated God-given rights to our own Innisfail ; 

Think of the men of ninety-eight who fought for free- 
dom's cause, 

On Irish soil for liberty 'gainst cursed Saxon laws. 

Our clergy murdered at their shrines, when low to God 
they prayed. 

Avenge them now, with steady aim, brave Irish Boer 
Brigade. 



168 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

COMOHOLA. 

One summer's day from Bantry Bay to Kealkill town 

we went 
To view the fields and meadows green upon out 

pleasure bent. 
At Comohola Hills we pitched our camp adjacent to 

the road, 
Where you could see up in the glen Tim Cadogan's 

abode. 
And brawny mountaineers with bronzed and rugged 

mien, 
Prepared to strike for Ireland and her glorious flag of 

green. 
Lynch and Cotter led the van, the Peelers in the rear, 
With speech and song the valley rang by men to do 

and dare. 

The Reverend Father took the chair and told them one 
and all. 

That they should speak their native tongue from Cork 
to Donegal. 

The English is a foreign one : they forced us to comply 

With the language of the Sassenach when our own 
they did destroy. 

Cotter was the next to speak, and he spoke right man- 
fully— 

He told how Sarsfield fought and bled for Irish liberty, 

And spoke the Irish language in France with his 
brigade. 

At Fontenoy and Limerick and also at Belgrade. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 169 

Lynch, the teacher, also spoke and told them fall in 

line 
And learn to speak the Gaelic tongue from Shannon 

to the Boyne. 
He told them how they were plundered by an alien 

hireling crew. 
Who stole their books and manuscripts, but ne'er could 

them subdue. 
And now they must resuscitate that language so long 

dead: 
Here are the books, put down your names, by your 

good pastor led. 
O'Brien then sang old "Keimaneigh," you'd swear he, 

too, was there. 
The cheering and the yelling drove the Peelers to 

despair. 

The sergeant is a bachelor and that you all know well, 
No Irish girl would marry him, the truth to you I tell. 
He's a hirehng of the Government that stole our tongue 

away, 
And doing Iscariot's dirty work from Gougane to the 

Bay. 
Soon he'll have to take the pick, the shovel and the hoe 
And bundle up his livery and from old Ireland go. 
We'll have no use for Bobbies, old Ireland must be free. 
For the Gaelic is our battle cry in fight for liberty. 

Long life to you brave Cotter, O'Brien and Lynch also. 
That you may help to free your land and smite the 
tyrant low. 



170 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

May the language now in vogue by you take root in 

Irish soil 
And help lo chase the foe away who did our homes 

despoil. 
May the boys and girls of Kealkill, Comohola and 

Gougane 
Speak Irish when they courting go from Cork to 

Collomane ; 
May Mrs. Dowling live to hear the sweet tongue of the 

Gael 
On the lips of every colleen in dear old Innisfail. 



WHEN PAPISTS COULD APPLY. 

When freedom's cause throughout the land was in its 

infancy, 
And the banner of the patriots waved triumphantly, 
The men who rallied 'neath its folds knew neither creed 

nor fear. 
But to fight for home and liberty did proudly volunteer. 
When Lafayette came here from France, prepared to 

do or die. 
You would not hear those nasty words: "No Papists 

need apply !" 

When Kosciusko crossed the seas to fight for freedom's 

cause, 
He left his home and country, oppressed by Russian 

laws, 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION., 171 

And sought the camp of Washington with ready sword 

in hand. 
To help to strangle tyranny in Columbia's fair land ; 
The foreigner was welcome then, for freedom was his 

cry. 
And no such words were ever heard : "No Papists need 

apply." 

At Trenton and at Monmouth, the foreigners were 

game; 
Moll Pitcher and Ted Murphy, John Bull did promptly 

tame. 
Molly manned the cannon, killing tyrants by the score, 
While Murphy's sure and stead aim left Fraser in his 

gore. 
Fitzgerald was with Washington, and proudly would 

he die. 
Fighting in the ranks with him when Papists could 

apply. 

O'Brien and his seven sons, who, history will show, 
Chased the English tyrants and dealt them blow for 

blow. 
When war was raging in the land, they fought upon 

the sea. 
And captured England's man-o'-war, and swore they 

would be free. 
In those proud days no A. P. A.'s would join in battle 

cry, 
And no such words could e'er be heard : "No Papists 

need apply." 



173 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

When Washington was short of funds, after a long 

campaign, 
Philadelphia sent him succor, his soldiers to maintain ; 
To fight for freedom's holy cause and drive the Saxon 

back, 
The hirelings of King George's blood-stained, greedy 

pack. 
They give three cheers for liberty and Washington was 

their cry, 
For all of these were Papists — then Papists did apply ! 

Jack Barry was a sailor, well known from shore to 

shore. 
And made the English quake with fear when he was 

commodore. 
When British gold was offered him, he spurned the 

same with pride ; 
And flung the insult back at George, for he was true 

and tried. 
But Barry was an Irishman, and raised aloud the cry, 
How dare you say, you A. P. A., ''No Papists need 

apply"? 

At the battle of Antietam and Gettysburg also. 

That foreigners took an active part the bigots well do 

know, 
When the vilest reptiles of this earth to Canada did 

repair, 
And sought a refuge from John Bull, who kept them 

in his lair. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 173 

And those who bought a substitute, with the enemy to 

cope, 
Now cry aloud : "Protection and save me from the 

Pope r 

The scum of all the universe, the A. P. A. Brigade ; 
They bastardize the laws of God through valley, hill 

and glade, 
And desecrate the name of him, the bravest of the 

brave, 
Who fought to give them freedom and fills a freeman's 

grave. 
His memory we all cherish, and his name will never 

die. 
And if he were alive to-day a Papist could apply. 

When our President to John Bull sent word the other 

day, 
"Hands off Venezuela, I command you right away !" 
'Twas then the Papists' blood arose and pulses beat 

with joy, 
As did their famed forefathers in France at Fontenoy. 
Those A. P. x\.'s to cellars crawled and then did cry, 
"We will not fight 'gainst England — let the Papists 

now apply." 

The vermin of the Orange race now trying to sow the 

seed 
Of discord and proscription will never here succeed. 



174 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

This is the land of Washington, we glory in the same, 
And every heart "beats high with pride" to hear that 

hero's name. 
While the beacon star of liberty shines brightly from 

on high, 
We'll show the Tory A. P. A. that Papists can apply. 



Phil. Sheridan, the war horse, well known both far and 

wide, 
And every schoolboy in this land has read his famous 

ride; 
He fought to free the colored man and give him liberty, 
He placed his trust in God above and knew no bigotry. 
No slave was he to race or creed, "Susannah, don't you 

cry," 
We set you free in sixty-three, for Papists did apply. 



And when in old Virginia the Southerners showed their 

might, 
Meagher brave and Corcoran were foremost in the 

fight. 
They fought them in the Wildnerness with ready blade 

and ball. 
And many a gallant Southerner before their charge did 

fall. 
Though born in old Ireland, "Faugh-a-Ballah" they did 

cry. 
We'll show you fight both day and night, for Papists 

can apply. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 175 

And should Columbia need again the men who fought 

with Lee, 
And those who followed Sherman ''from Atlanta to the 

Sea," 
The exiled sons of Erin, ah ! in battle proud array. 
Will march again at beat of drum, all ready for the 

fray ; 
And when they see the Stars and Stripes — "Old Glory" 

— they will cry : 
"Charge, boys, and drive them back to hell ! We're 

Papists — we apply." 



A TRIBUTE TO TIMOTHY CADOGAN. 

(Murdered by a Perjured Judge and Jury on January 
II, 1901, in the City of Cork.) 

Tim Cadogan was a farmer's son, his lawful debts he 
paid, 

Of landlord or of bailiff he never was afraid. 

No Bird, nor crow, nor magpie, his spirit proud could 
tam.e, 

A rough and rugged son of toil from Kerry hills he 
came. 

One day he went to Bantry town, 'twas in the after- 
noon. 

As he had often done before in winter time and June. 

A Bird was winged that morning, a minion of the 
Crown, 

No loss was he to Bantry nor any other town. 



176 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Chorus. 
The jury found him guilty one bleak December day, 
And the judge made up his mind to take his life away. 
He was murdered in old Ireland, far across the sea, 
One thousand men like Cadogan would set old Ireland 
free. 

The bloodhounds and informers bafifled and at sea, 
Hounded gallant Cadogan, which proved his destiny. 
The Peelers in pursuit of him, no evidence could find, 
.Through treachery they did conspire to gain that hero's 

mind. 
When they took him to prison, no danger did he fear, 
He knew that he was innocent, this gallant moun- 
taineer. 
The jury thought the same of him and some decreed 

it so, 
Despite the perjured evidence of Dennis and Duclo. 

[Chorus. 

Another trial, the jury packed, the spawn of Cromwell's 

breed, 
To hang the gallant farmer's son at last they did 

succeed. 
The jury found him guilty, the judge's charge was vile. 
With gown and wig, a la Norbury, a native of the soil. 
And now his spirit hovers from Cork to Bantry Bay, 
For Duclo and Dennis both swore his life away. 
When he received his sentence disappointment did 

abound 
Among his friends and countrymen, who gathered all 

around. [Chorus. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 177 

He faced the bars and prison walls like Emmet and 

Wolfe Tone. 
Defied the judge and jury packed, from him there was 

no moan. 
He knew that he'd be murdered as thousands were 

before 
By Norbury and Lord O'Brien throughout old Erin's 

shore. 
Though young in years his spirit proud, O'Brien could 

not break. 
He tried to cheat "Norbury" and his own life take. 
He knew what Wolfe Tone did when in his youth 

and prime, 
And tried to do the same, he thought it was no crime. 

[Chorus. 

Long life to Paddy Meade, his name will never die, 
The judge and jury in the court he bodly did defy. 
He knew the trial v/ould be a farce presided by 

O'Brien, 
That Judas of the Irish race from Cork to Ballyline. 
Gilhooly, Flynn and Barry tried with might and main 
To save the life of Cadogan, their efforts were in vain. 
The judge decreed that he should die a traitor to the 

Crown, 
No more to see his native hills, nor visit Bantry town. 

[Chorus, 

The names of Dennis and his gang are loathsome now 

to hear. 
They dare not visit Bantry, their hearts are full of fear. 

13 



178 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The grass they tread will wither and ne'er again will 

grow, 
When trampled by Iscariots like Dennis and Duclo. 
Now like the owl that shuns the da}^ when darkness 

is around 
They crawl out of their hiding place, where reptiles 

doth abound. 

May Cadogan's spirit rest in peace on that bright 

heavenly shore, 
Before that court above the clouds where sorrow is no 

more. 



FITZHARRIS. 

From out an English bastile, now haggard, old and 

gray— 
The bravest soul 'mong Irishmen has wended forth his 

way. 
No ball or chain or prison food his spirit proud could 

tame, 
An humble man, but true as steel, from Wicklow hills 

he came. 
When brutal British hirelings with gold to him were 

sent — 
To bribe him in his prison cage, they thought he would 

repent. 

"Go back," said he, "to Gladstone, and let it be to-day, 
And tell him I would starve to death before I would 
betray. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 179 

I care not what the rest have done, to Ireland I'll be 

true — • 
And would not tell the name of one, if all of them I 

knew; 
Inside these dismal prison walls for life I will remain 
Before you will find out from me by whom these men 

were slain." 



Through bolts and bars and prison walls defiantly he 

cried — 
"No gold for me through treachery, your worst is now 

defied. 
You say the rest have proven false — go back and to 

them tell 
Fitzharris' heart could not be changed, though in a prison 

cell 
It may be years, it may be death, to comrades I'll be 

true, 
Dan Curly and Joe Brady, and the gallant Fagan, too. 

"Though sad it is to part with wife, with friends and 

children dear, 
Within these dark and gloomy walls no one to give me 

cheer — 
I'd rather die a martyr's death," defiantly his mien, 
"Than for all the gold in England be a traitor to the 

green." 
Thus spoke an humble cabman from out his prison cage, 
To the castle-hacks of Dublin, which put them in a rage. 



180 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Awaiting trial, this hero lay, within the filthy jail, 
Inducements great were offered him, but all of no avail — 
*T'll give you twenty thousand pounds," the Gladstone 

spy did say; 
''And our great Queen's protection from Dublin to 

Bombay." 
"I spurn your golden offer — go find some English bloat, 
I'd rather die a pauper first," said gallant "Skin the 

Goat." 

The jury packed within the court, agreed that he should 

go, 
From Liffy's Strand and Wicklow Glens; the judge 

decreed it so. 
His sentence he received as cool as Emmet or Wolfe 

Tone — 
And stood before the English judge, like monument of 

stone ; 
That day in Dublin Court House they sentenced him 

for life; 
A gallant man he still remains through every storm and 

strife. 



And after seventeen weary years, from out a living hell, 
He comes among us once again, his ''prison life" to tell. 
And though old age is setting in, in his declining years 
He'd face the music once again, with trusty volunteers. 
A man may often wear a tattered hat and ragged coat 
And still be true to Fatherland, like gallant "Skin the 
Goat." 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 181 

KRUGER'S ENEMY. 

The demon of all nations, the hypocrite of creeds, 
With the Bible on her lips, with the devil in her deeds, 
With Lyddite fire, with poisoned lead, with bullets of 

dum-dum ; 
Now plays her pranks in Africa to make the Boer suc- 
cumb. 
Not long ago the Sepoys, from the cannon's mouth she 

blew, 
And smoked to death were Zulus, in the caves to which 
they flew. 

Since the days of all the Henrys, and all the Georges, 

too. 
She has ravaged, plundered, murdered, in order to 

subdue ; 
Murdered Irish mothers — murdered their babes unborn; 
From kings entombed in foreign lands, their buried 

jewels were torn. 
Where e'er she got a foothold, she got it by the sword, 
Regardless of all blood she shed, she cared but for the 

gold. 

She tried her hand at grabbing in Boston years ago, 
When by stout hands her merchandise into the sea 

did go; 
But the stalwart sons of Vermont whose war-whoop 

pealed aloud. 
Supported by New Hampshire, defiantly and proud, 



182 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Rushed to the camp of Washington with ready blade 

and ball, 
And many a British buccaneer at Bunker Hill did fall. 

Then England got some lessons what Americans could do 
From O'Briens and O'SuUivans, with Yankee ships and 

crew ; 
She depended on her army to pillage, rob and loot. 
And thought she could control the coast from Boston to 

Duluth; 
How the "Margarette" was captured is .needless now 

to tell; 
By O'Brien and his seven sons the flag of England fell. 

Her rapine and her butchery no more we tolerate. 
The doers of such cursed deeds we will exterminate, 
Throughout the land of Washington no refuge can they 

seek ; 
They came to Christianize us, with whispers low and 

meek, 
And then destroyed our commerce, for which they 

dearly paid — 
Some fifteen million dollars was the bargain that they 

made. 

Of late, they've gone to Africa to crush the gallant Boer, 
With gattling gun and cannon their battery loud did 

roar. 
But Joubert met them face to face and fought them man 

to ma,n. 
Till blood and brains flew o'er the plains, with Kruger 

in the van. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 183 

Each Fusilier and Glostershire will nevermore forget 
The blows dealt out by Kruger's men — they're thinking 
of them yet. 

O, -Blessed God ! may your right hand the gallant Boer 

defend, 
And strengthen him with heavenly aid the Saxon's head 

to bend, 
With shrapnell, shot and bullets, till none are left to tell 
How Coldstream Guards and Queen's Blackguards be- 
fore the Burghers fell ; 
May every red-coat ranger and foolish Fusilier 
Get little rest by day or night from Kruger Musketeer. 

Oh, what a gallant onward charge the Boers made that 

day. 
Laying low both officers and men — before they ran away. 
One thousand in the trenches, dying and maimed did 

groan, 
All wishing they had never left their far off English 

home ; 
Thus, England got a lesson she never got before, 
Since the days of Balaklava ; God bless the valiant Boer ! 

Defenseless babes and mothers, in Wyoming Valley lay. 

Slain by English savages at early dawn of day. 

While the fathers and the husbands were responding to 

the call 
To fight for country's liberty, their sacred homes and all ; 
Thus did British "civilizers" the babes and mothers slay : 
With no one to defend them, their life's blood ebbed 

awav. 



184 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

And this happened in America some hundred- years ago, 
'Tis in our school-books, history, to let our children know 
How foully England murdered the matron, child and 

maid; 
And paid the Indians for the scalps ; and missionaries 

paid 
For founding smallpox hospitals, to propagate disease — 
AMiat wonder that, for England's fall we'd pray on 

bended knees? 

A foul disease to scatter — when war's resources failed — 
To cause an epidemic in George Washington's Brigade; 
It's writ in Stewart's History of Revolution times, 
In chapter four, page sixty-two, you'll find the very lines ; 
And later still, in Washington the Capitol she burned, 
And burned Staten Island — humanity she spurned. 

She thought she was in India, or out in the Soudan, 
Or fighting against savages with Kitchener in the van ; 
This time she met her \\'aterloo by bullets of the Boer, 
AATio scattered all her "Tommy" boys, and left some in 

their gore; 
The Fusiliers and Grenadiers now wish they were at 

home 
In Spitalfields and Fordham's Flat, no mote inclined 

to roam. 

Xow the Bully of all Nations her colors must pull down, 
Oom Paul will rule in Africa despite the English Crown. 
The Red Cross and the Shamrock entwined henceforth 

will be, 
With gallant Blake and Joubert in fight for liberty ; 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 185 

And Lady Gonne, that lady who kept Irish youths away 
From enlisting in a robber's cause, from Cork to Dublin 
Bay. 

Now England seeks America, with bribery in hand, 
To form an alliance with so-called ''^Mother Land." 
She has no friends in Europe, where her deeds are too 

well known ; 
Russia, France and Germany, her friendship all disown. 

Long life to ]\Irs. Belmont, and noble Helen Gould, 
As thorough-bred Americans their names must be en- 
rolled. 
They showed they were no toadies, but women true and 

brave. 
Who willingly would give their lives, our starry flag to 

save ; 
Their names will live in history for many years to come, 
Their first thought was xAmerica, and charity at home. 



LEAVING HOME, AUGUST, 1868. 

Alas, alas, in foreign lands six thousand miles from home. 
Thinking of my native hills in distant climes to roam, 
I left your fertile plains, asthore, when I was young in 

years ; 
And when I kissed a mother dear, she wiped away her 

tears — 
I left her with a broken heart, was forced to go away ; 
Heart and brain with care oppressed, I sailed from 

Bantrv Bav. 



186 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

I left one Sunday morning, before the signal gun; 
'Twas there my trials, troubles and sorrows had begun. 
As I sailed out of the harbor, I whispered a farewell 
To the sun-kissed hills and meadows green and daisies 

in the dell ; 
The little birds ne'er sang so sweet as they did on that 

day, 
When I left home and homeland and sailed from Bantry 

Bay. 

As I sailed in the little craft that took me out to sea, 
'Twas then I prayed to God above my country to set 

free; 
There is no reason she should be in bondage all these 

years. 
Bleeding from her many wounds and shedding bitter 

tears ; 
She is as fair as other lands, and trying night and day 
To raise the Green above the Red in dear old Bantry Bay. 

Although out in the Great Far West, with plenty all 

around, 
I'd rather live in Ireland, my own dear native ground. 
'Tis true there's wealth galore and plenty always there, 
But give to me old Erin's Isle, none with her can com- 
pare. 
I know her fields are fresh and green, though she in 

bondage lay. 
And that's the reason I left home and sailed from Bantry 

Bav. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 187 

As I roam these wild prairies and mountains of the West, 
My thoughts fly o'er the billows to the land that I love 

best. 
Though oceans roll between us, you're ever dear to me, 
I'll ne'er forget my native hills for any far country. 
Your sons and daughters they are brave at home or 

far away, 
And always will be dear to me, far, far from Bantry Bay. 

Why should the wandering Celt forget his home beyond 

the sea. 
The Lififey and Blackwater, the Shannon and the Lee, 
Killarney and Glengariff, Avoca and Dunlow, 
The Pass of Keimaneigh where yeomen were laid low? 
These places are all dear to me, though very far away. 
Yet still my heart flies back once more to dear old Bantry 

Bay. 



A VISIT TO GLENGARIFF. 

(August 17, 1902.) 

In August last one summer's da}^ to the Glen my bark 

did steer, 
To view the fields and meads so green, no danger did I 

fear. 
With lightning speed O'Brien's steed that day flew like 

the wind; 
Each bike and horse and gallowglass he left them far 

behind. 



188 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Comohola's hills and Newton, too, looked beautiful 

that day ; 
The lads and lassies gaily decked as we left Bantry 

Bay. 
Miss Murphy was the village queen and stately did 

appear. 
As we drove through the village the people did her 

cheer. 

When we reached the village green the first thing met 
my view 

Were the boys and girls from Bantry — they were a 
jolly crew. 

They cycled from that ancient place that Sunday after- 
noon, 

And when the rain began to fall they waited for the 
moon ; 

It came just like an avalanche and flooded glen and 
vale. 

That summer's day I'll ne'er forget in dear old Innisfail. 

Now as we start for Bantry, with its madly flowing 
" tide, 

The subject of my ditty was sitting by my side. 

She sweetly sang "Mavourneen" and "Suwanee River," 

too, 
"Must We Then Meet as Strangers ?"— "My Love, Will 

You Be True?"— 
Mavourneen delish Eileen oge, her voice rang through 

the glen ; 

She also sang the "Wexford Boys," "United Irishmen." 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 189 

She is a charming Irish girl, graceful and serene, 
A credit to old Erin's Isle, my native land so green. 
Her sister and Miss Heffernan also sang that day. 
And as they sang the valleys rang as we drove to the 
Bay. 



EASTER GREETINGS TO MY DEAR 
CHILDREN. 

Easter greetings to you all I waft across the breeze 
To where mother's love and tender care their utmost 

did to please. 
How sad to think that she is gone, who watched you 

carefully, 
And spent two years ago to-day in this hotel with me. 
Think of her in the morning, think of her night and 

day, 
The sweetest soul that ever lived from us has passed 

away. 
Her memory cherish dearly, of you she did take care ; 
As pure as ever lived was she, an angel bright and fair. 
My troubles I have borne through sunshine and 

through strife. 
Since God has taken her from me, a mother and a wife. 
So children, dear, 1 beg of you, and this is all I crave, 
To visit on next Easter Day your mother's lonely 

grave. 



190 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

A VISIT TO MY SISTER'S GRAVE IN SAN 

FRANCISCO, CAL., MARCH, 1902. 

Silently I went along to where all seemed most serene, 
A.nd the sun-kissed peaks and meadows with verdure 

ever green. 
All, all, was still within these walls where thousands 

were at rest 
Afar from home and motherland, out in the Golden 

West. 
My thoughts flew back to childhood days across the 

ocean wide, 
Where we spent many happy hours upon the green 

hillside. 
I thought of Erin's daughters whom England did 

enslave 
As I knelt by the Pacific, above my sister's grave. 

On the shore of the Pacific she rests peacefully. 
She left her home and country for a land of liberty. 
Born beneath the English flag she scorned to live a 

slave. 
And left that home in tender years and crossed the 

ocean wave. 
'Twas sad to And her buried so far away from home, 
But we are destined far and wide in foreign lands to 

roam. 
Grim death has taken her away, with husband true and 

brave, 
May peace be theirs for evermore is all that now I 

crave. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 191 

ON BOARD THE "MAINE." 

'Twas evening; all was still as we at anchor lay, 

With thoughts of wives and little ones, down in 
Havana Bay. 

The pilots with their little craft were waiting for the 
dawn, 

The mocking-birds were singing and the dew was on 
the lawn, 

The sons of toil had gone to rest in that isle of 
golden sheen, 

"All's well on board !" the watchman cried, while gaz- 
ing on the scene. 

Three hundred souls we had on board, no danger did 

we fear, 
AVith a captain brave and jolly crew, our gallant ship 

to steer; 
But what is that? Great God above! The noise 

comes from below; 
Our ship's in twain, our gallant "Maine," by Weyler's 

torpedo. 
Hush! Hush! the noise is o'er; see them struggling 

with the tide. 
"Jump in! Be quick! Save all you can," the gallant 

Sigsbee cried. 

My God! What have they done?' Behold this awful 

wreck ! 
Our comrades dead and dying and maimed upon the 

deck. 



193 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Just see that headless body drifting with the tide, 
Oh, would it were in battle that gallant hero died ! 
Another with an arm gone is trying with might and 

main 
To save the comrade by his side who was by Weyler 

slain. 

Now Uncle Sam well knows the treachery of Spain, 
And will avenge our comrades who perished in the 

"Maine." 
The mothers and the fathers, the wives and sisters, 

too, 
The brothers and the sweethearts of our noble tars so 

true 
Will see our starry banner o'er Cuba proudly wave, 
Where the-heroes of our battleship their lives so freely 

gave. 

May our sailors brave now rest in peace, and remember, 

one and all, 
They died beneath that starry flag that never feared a 

ball. 
Our banner now doth proudly wave, assail it if you 

dare. 
You cowardly dogs, now bite the dust for war we will 

declare. 
United now throughout the land our battle cry shall be, 
''Avenge the 'Maine' in war with Spain, then Cuba 

shall be free." 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 193 

DEWEY, THE HERO. 

After ploughing the raging billows, through spume and 

spray, 
The Hero of Manila is now anchored in the bay. 
He's the sailor of America, and Dewey is his name. 
Bronzed and rugged from the sea, from Vermont hills 

he came. 
He entered old Manila with quick-firing gun and ball, 
And many a Spanish sailor at his command did fall. 

'Neath the starry flag of Washington he comes here 

once again. 
After freeing the Filipinos from the cruel yoke of 

Spain. 
No Kaiser, Bear or Bull would dare Old Glory now 

assail. 
With Yankee tars true to our stars, and sons, too, of 

the Gael, 
Our sailors fought for liberty and kept the Dons at 

bay; 
With Dewey, Schley and Hobson foremost in the fray. 

Schley and Dewey are the men whose victories on the 

sea. 
In Asia and America have set the people free. 
They showed the Spanish navy what Americans could 

do. 
They know we are not afraid of any foreign crew ; 
They also know our gunners never miss the mark, 
Whether firing at a man-o'-war, a brigantine or bark, 

13 



194 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Long life to Admiral Dewey, recorded let it be, 
Columbia's noblest emblem, the banner of the free, 
Without a stain he brought it back and proudly it doth 

wave 
O'er the deck of the ''Olympia" and gallant crew so 

brave. 
With a soldier in the White House no power on earth 

now dare 
Trifle with Old Glory or with that flag compare. 



LADY MAJORIE HOWARD. 

Have you heard of Lady Howard, so handsome, 

straight and tall, 
A credit to her native isle, admired by one and all? 
She'^ not like some poor toady who pulled our colors 

down 
When he saw Erin's emblem, the Harp without the 

Crown. 
No slave is she to royalty or England's King or Queen, 
Old Ireland should be proud of her, she dearly loves 

the green. 
Her heart is full of charity the people know right well ; 
The poor and needy call on her and praises of her tell. 

How stately she appears each day with raiment rich 

and rare. 
There is no lady in the land with Marjorie can compare. 
Her hair is of the golden sheen, her eyes of azure blue. 
Her carriage grand, her voice sublime, her lips of 

purest hue. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 195 

Her name is heard both far and wide, each time in 

merited praise, 
Whene'er she walks through mead or park the people 

at her gaze ; 
They know of her good qualities, the truth to you Til 

tell, 
The subject of m_v ditty owns the Kenwood House 

Hotel. 

You'll find folk there from Germany, from France ana 

sunny Spain, 
From the golden West, Chicago, too, and from the 

coast of Maine ; 
The hostess greets them one and all, she knows no 

sect or clan. 
But treats them all with courtesy, that motto is her 

plan. 
O'Connor from Chicago with smiles you will meet 

there, 
A hater of oppression, for he can do and dare. 
His charming wife and daughter, like Maurice, love the 

green. 
They have no use for dukes or knights, nor any king 

or queen. 

Long life to Lady Howard and her lovely family. 
May they live to comb gray locks and see old Ireland 

free; 
May her troubles all be very small, morning, noon and 

night, 
And may her children comfort her, her joy and heart's 

delight. 



196 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Her name should be recorded among the brave and 

true, 
For she has shown America what womankind can do. 
May her days be spent in happiness wherever she may 

dwell, 
In marble halls or palace walls or Kenwood House 

Hotel. 



BABY GENEVIEVE. 



Away down in old V^irginia, where the darkey loves to 

dwell, 
My thoughts are all of Genevieve, the child I love so 

well. 
When I go home at night she meets me at the door, 
And runs to kiss me with the love her mother gave 

before. 
Her mother's looks and smiling face in her I can 

perceive, 
Whene'er I gaze upon the face of Baby Genevieve. 

With a heart that's almost broken, I'll bear it for her 

sake, 
For she is with the angels since her God from me did 

take — 
My love and pride and heart's delight of happy days 

gone by. 
For Death's dark mantle wrapped her round and took 

away my joy. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 197 

But when I see my baby's face, this heart it doth re- 
lieve, 

For mother's looks were just the same as those of 
Genevieve. 

Oh, baby, dear, how hard it was when mamma passed 

away. 
And with the last fond look she gave this to me did say : 
"Take care of Baby Genevieve, she is our youngest 

child, 
And God will help you through life's ways" — she spoke 

so sweet and mild. 
Your mother's words I think of now, and joyfully I 

perceive 
Her handsome face and hazel eyes in Baby Genevieve. 



ON BOARD THE "ALAMEDA." 

(Sung by the Royal Quintette Club, of Honolulu. 

Tune : "The Good Old Summer Time.") 
Once more beneath our starry flag, the emblem of the 

free, 
We're leaving Honolulu to cross the deep blue sea ; 
Here's to our gallant captain, who takes us through 

the main ; 
On board the "Alameda" we're homeward bound again. 
We're homeward bound ! We're homeward bound ! 

We're homeward bound again, 
On board the "Alameda" we're homeward bound 
again. 



198 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

And when we reach the Golden Gate in San Francisco 

Bay, 
We'll welcomed be in that city by lads and lassies gay; 
They're waiting for our little craft, also her gallant 

crew, 
Who take delight both day and night to see us safely 

through. 

We're homeward bound ! We're homeward bound ! 

We're homeward bound again. 
On board the "A^lameda" we're homeward bound 

again. 



And now upon the boundless deep no danger do we 

fear, 
In God so just we place our trust for all to us so dear. 
Blow on, ye gentle breezes, blow, and drive our bark 

toward home ; 
Despite the wars in foreign lands, in safety we may 

roam. 
With a captain brave and a jolly crew who takes us 

through the main. 
On board the ''Alameda" we're homeward bound again. 

We're homew^ard bound ! We're homeward bound ! 

We're homeward bound again. 
On board the "Alameda" we're homeward bound 

again. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 199 

ON BOARD THE "MAJESTIC." 

Farewell, farewell, asthore machree, we ne'er may see 

you more, 
For we are leaving you behind for fair Columbia's 

shore. 
The hirelings of an alien race have forced us from our 

home, 
And we must leave our kith and kin in foreign lands 

to roam. 
The baihffs and the landlords, a curse to Erin's Isle, 
Have caused the children of the Gael to leave their 

native soil ; 
But though I leave you far behind, you're ever dear 

to me, 
And from the bounding billows I bid farewell to thee. 

Another glimpse I take of you and it may be the last, 
The happy days I spent with you remind me of the 

past. 
And though I leave your fertile shore in other lands 

to dwell. 
While life is left I'll ne'er forget the hours spent in the 

dell; 
Your shady groves and valleys, old Ireland's joy and 

pride, 
Shall ne'er forgotten be by me, though salt seas may 

divide. 
I know your sons are good and true, your daughters 

pure and brave. 
But foul oppression forces them to cross the ocean 

wave. 



200 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Farewell, farewell, once more, asthore, oh, may you 

yet be free, 
Though Columbia must be our home, that land of 

liberty ; 
We'll ne'er forget our motherland, her valleys and her 

hills. 
Or the robbers and marauders, the cause of all her ills ; 
We seek the land of Washington, the best across the 

main. 
And will comply with all her laws where freedom we'll 

obtain. 
The rich and poor are equal there, a man's a man 

alway, 
"Farewell, farewell, my native land," to you once more 

I say. 



SISTERS TWO. 



I met two sisters, young in years, 

Not many months ago, 
One had been across the sea 

The other soon to go. 
They were born in old Ireland, 

A place you all know well. 
And lately left their native home 

In foreign lands to dwell. 
Their eyes are of the azure blue. 

None with them can compare. 
Bereft of mother in their teens 

When they were free from care. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 201 

The one left home when scarce fourteen 

The other then a child, 
Now they're tall and handsome 

With spirits undefiled. 

That they're a credit to their native land 

I gladly ween. 
How stately they appeared to me 

When on the village green. 
I saw them at the pattern, 

I saw them at the fair, 
I saw them on the mainland 

Prepared to do and dare. 
'Tis sad to think that those bright eyes 

W^ere forced to cross the sea 
And leave their childhood's happy home 

Through Saxon tyranny. 
To see these pretty Irish girls 

'Twas indeed a prize, 
With their silken hair, rosy cheeks and 

Expressive, bright blue eyes. 

When I think of these sisters 

It makes my heart feel sore, 
They ne'er appeared so sweet to me 

As they did at old Dromore. 
That was their dear native soil, 

In happy youth they played 
Till they were forced to cross the deep 

By laws the vSaxon made. 



202 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Their father is an Irishman, 

Respected far and near, 
And should a call to arms come 

Would gladly volunteer 
To strike for home and motherland 

Which Nellie and Mary 
Were forced to leave with heav}^ hearts 

And cross the deep blue sea. 



A VISIT TO A DEAR FRIEND'S GRAVE IN SAN 

FRANCISCO. 

Note — Written for a lad3r whom the writer beheld kneeling over the 
grave of her mother. San Francisco, July 1904. 

She's resting on the hillside, the dearest one to me, 
And sleeps her sweetest sleep in yonder cemetery. 
Fond memories of childhood days I now recall to mind ; 
Love like hers I know full well I ne'er again shall find. 
She's gone to join the angels, her life to God she gave ; 
My only consolation is to strew with flowers her grave. 

Oh ! mother, how I miss you no tongue but mine can 

tell, 
For you were all on earth to me and in my heart still 

dwell. 
You nursed me with your tender care, with kisses soft 

and sweet, 
No more will you caress me, we ne'er again shall meet, 
Except at that Celestial Throne where angels for us 

crave, 
My only consolation is my darling mother's grave. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 203 

TOM'S WEDDING. 

Welcome to the golden West from your childhood's 

happy home, 
A mother's pride and heart's delight — no matter where 

you roam. 
A father's love he gave to you when in your tender 

years, 
And now you miss their loving kiss which would allay 

yours fears. 
Although you are a happy bride your thoughts will 

wander there, 
Those hours you spent in infancy when free from every 

care. 
Your heart and hand you gave to one to cherish you 

through life; 
He'll stick to you through weal or woe since you've 

become his wife. 



All hands around this festive board stand up and drink 

with me. 
Long life to bride and bridegroom, too, is the toast we 

drink to thee. 
May every joy and happiness this world can unfold 
Be always found within this home and heaps of love 

untold. 
And though far from your native place where you first 

saw the light, 
And words of love were spoken which vou to him did 

plight, 



204 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

The memory of the courting days must not be cast 

aside 
Since you've become the wife of Tom, his comfort and 

his pride. 

And when the cradle comes around, as come I hope it 

will, 
If one won't do, there may be two to help that cradle 

fill. 
It's nice to be a father, and Tom will often say, 
"Rock-a-bye, my baby," singing sweetest lay, 
"Since you have come to gladden us our home is now 

complete. 
With kisses and caresses we always will you greet. 
Cead mille failtha once again I bid you welcome here, 
I know full well that vou will be both faithful and 

sincere." 

Now boys and girls a warning take and listen unto me. 

Be sure to marry one you love or live in misery. 

Just think of what you saw to-night, a groom and 

happy bride, 
A model for all youthful souls, his darling and his 

pride; 
Modesty is pictured in her sweet, angelic face, 
I hope no other human being will ever take her place. 
And what of him? He's youthful, too, with manliness 

galore, 
He will be true to eyes of blue and keep wolf from the 

door. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 205 

The next will be the wooden one, I mean the wooden 

wedding, 
May peace and happiness be every hour yours until the 

time that's pending. 
Then comes the tin. May babies bright bring smiles 

to you galore ; 
And when the crystal comes around may there be half 

a score. 
The silver, I sincerely hope, will find you just the 

same — 
Two loving hearts that beat as true as when the 

wooden came. 
And when the golden comes around, and come I hope 

it may, 
May every guest that's here to-night be here on that 

same day. 

And now before we leave this house, all you that are 

yet free, 
I hope when next we meet again that married you 

will be, 
And settle down for love alone whene'er you hitch for 

life. 
'Twill carry you this world through, the struggle and 

the strife ; 
So wed for love, and not for gold, if you take my 

advice. 
A happy home and loving heart — for gold they will suffice. 
Now comes the hour when we must part, but in our 

hearts will dwell 
The pleasant hours we spent with you, God bless you 

both, farewell. 



206 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Now one word more about the bride before I end my 

theme : 
She comes from good old Irish stock, no wonder she's 

a dream. 
Her father I have i<nown for years, to home and home- 
land true, 
Her mother is a faithful wife and loving mother, too ; 
Though born 'neath the starry flag on fair Columbia's 

shore, 
Next to the Stripes the Shamrock comes, now and for 

evermore. 
She saw old Erin in her tears by English hirelings 

made, 
The roof tree often in a blaze by England's vile 

brigade. 

And now a last word before we part from round this 

festive board : 
We care not for a king or queen or •. ny monarch horde. 
We love the emblem of the free, none with it can 

compare, 
And, if assailed by any power, then we will do and 

dare. 
" Hip ! Hip Hoorah ! by night and day, beneath it we will 

stand. 
So drink with me right heartily and toast your native 

land. 
She is the greatest on this earth and we will her 

uphold, 
We're not ashamed, won't be defamed her history to 

unfold. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 207 

IN ANSWER TO AN INVITATION TO FATHER 
LYNCH'S SILVER JUBILEE. 

(San Francisco, June, 190-i.) 

To go see you I do incline, 

E'en though buttermilk took place of wine. 

If Pluto's angels were the guests 

I would go there to hear their jests. 

A soggarth you are of the few 

To faith and homeland always true, 

And should the Apes your church assail 

They'll know you came from Innisfail ; 

A patriot, priest and soldier, too. 

To Stars and Stripes you would be true. 

And should a call come o'er the sea 

To strike for Irish liberty 

You would be foremost in the fray, 

Like Ennnet was in Dublin Bay. 

I'm glad you live to celebrate 

Your Jubilee in Golden Gate. 

Beneath that emblem of the free — 

That glorious flag of liberty. 

And when to-morrow you will pray, 

Think well of those who are far away ; 

And pray for them to crush the foe 

And break the chains that bind them low. 

To commemorate your Jubilee, this line 

From ''Rocky Mountain" Pat O'Brien. 



208 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 



A "SIBERIA" POEM. 



(A trip to Honolulu on the S.S. "Siberia," J. T. Smith 
in command, January ii, 1904.) 

On board the ship "Siberia" we ploughed the raging 
main. 

The ladies did their very best all hands to entertain. 

Mrs. Macintosh looked stately, with her winsome, win- 
ning ways 

She sang and played last evening with electric lights 
ablaze. 

And Mrs. Holmes and Miss Grozelier, commanding was 
their mien. 

You'll meet them in the dining-room with smiles for all 
I ween. 

Next we see bold Brewster upon the promenade. 

With a lady on his arm, he renders her his aid. 



Next upon my threshold Parker Lyon doth appear, 
With O'Shaughnessy and Lewis and genial Judge Gear; 
Jermyn of the Chicago fire, who barely saved his life, 
Smith was his companion in the struggle and the strife. 
Cunningham came from Salt Lake, a handsome-looking 

man. 
He is going to Flonolulu or maybe to Japan ; 
And now there is a youthful face distinguished far and 

wide. 
His name resounds throughout the land from dawn to 

eventide. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 209 

Some call him Mr. London, but he likes the name of 

Jack, 
He's going to see Mikado at the Russian have a whack ; 
He represents this nation at home or anywhere, 
There are no papers on this earth with his can compare. 
And when he goes to Washington as secretary to Hearst, 
To break the combination of the railroad and the trust. 
He'll treat the Jew and Gentile and the heathen just 

the same, 
He's a credit to America, that man of noble fame. 



There was a lady came aboard, and came quite unaware, 
She came on board our gallant ship no clothes had she 

to wear. 
But she has gladdened mother's heart and faithful 

father's, too. 
She first saw light beneath that flag, our own red, white 

and blue. 
Oh ! welcome, baby darling, and may your Hfe be long, 
We'll toast you in the banquet hall and sing of you in 

song, 
And now you're added to our list, though born upon 

the sea. 
That you may live to comb gray hairs are my cherished 
hopes for thee. 

Success attend our captain, and Francis Leonard, too, 
The purser, freight clerk, engineer and all his gallant 
crew. 



H 



210 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

They're a credit to the company, a kind word have for 

all, 
And should you need them day or night they're always 

at your call. 
Now we're bound for Honolulu on fair Columbia's 

shore. 
The Stars and Stripes are floating there and will for 

evermore. 
Judge Gear is at the helm with Roosevelt in the van. 
We place our trust in God above, that motto is our 

plan. 



HAWAII. 

In an island in the South Seas far, far away from home, 
In solitude I wander there, my thoughts across the 

the foam ; 
"Tis now I think of days gone by and scattered far and 

wide 
The little ones so dear to me, a mother's joy and pride. 
But soon my bark for home I'll steer across the ocean 

blue, 
And say to famed Hawaii, ''To you I bid adieu." 
So here's to home and homeland across the deep blue 

sea, 
I wonder are there any there who still remember me. 

How often in these distant isles, no tongue but mine 

can tell. 
The scenes I witnessed day by day all others do excel : 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 211 

The warning of the craters and ebbing of the tide, 
The snow upon the mountain peaks and lava flow beside. 
The cave down in the valley spontaneously doth grow, 
With eruptions of volcanoes their craters all aglow. 
So here's to home and homeland far, far across the 

main, 
I wonder will they know me there when I return again. 

Though I have been in foreign climes and distant lands 

galore. 
There's no place I love half so well as poor old Erin's 

shore ; 
Her daughters are the purest that e'er the sun shone on, 
Her sons are brave through every war, deny it if you 

can. 
And though they're scattered far and wide, just at the 

bugle's call 
They'll rally round our flag of green with ready blade 

and ball. 
Once more our gallant craft is ploughing through the 

main, 
I wonder will they know me when I return again. 

To strike for home and homeland our sacred rights to gain. 
United now to face the foe on land or on the main. 
Too long we're slaves to English rule, her tyranny and 

reign. 
The hour has come to strike at last, our rights we must 

obtain. 



212 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

I wonder would they know me now dressed in Irish green, 
Side by side with Wycherley in dear old Skibbereen, 
We'll raise aloft that green old flag, our colors we'll 

display, 
And chase the Saxon from Dundalk to ''Famed Old 

Bantry Bay." 



ROCKY'S BEREAVEMENT. 

(Lines written on the death of Margaret A., wife of 
Patrick ''Rocky Mountain" O'Brien.) 

BY MARY J. o'dONOVAN ROSSA. 

Twenty golden years of love, 

And then a night of woe ! 
When truest heart from fondest heart, 

Reluctantly must go. 
And round her couch a weeping band, 
Eight children and their father, stand 

To kiss her lips of snow. 

"Now mourn me not as lost," she said, 

"I only go before, 
To wait where friendship never parts — 
To wait and watch for you, dear hearts, 

On heaven's happy shore ! 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 213 

"And build no monumental stone, 

Nor darkly drape my bed, 
But lay me down in robes of white, 
With bloom of flowers and sunshine bright. 

And waving grass o'erhead ! 

"Thy Kingdom come ! Thy will be done \" 

She sighed with failing breath. 
A lovely woman fair of face, 
A Christian woman strong in grace, 

And not afraid of death. 



The pivot of a household's love, 

Her children's joy and guide ; 
Core of her husband-lover's heart, 

His comfort and his pride ; 
The flower and bloom of womanhood. 

As mother, maid or wife. 
Sighed out her fragrant spirit there. 

And closed her eyes on life. 



Her aged father weeps with cause 

Above her silent face ; 
The apple of his eye she was. 

And none may take her place. 
Her sobbing sisters droop around 

With anguish in their mien. 
While far and near, and thronging come 

The grieving friends and kin. 



214 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Three days and three nights, 
Amid flowers and Hghts, 

And prayers and rainfall of tears, 
In a sumptuous casket of silver and mauve, 
Attired as a bride, in a miniature grove 
Of palms, she was waked by her love. 

And the friends and acquaintance of years. 

Three days and three nights ! and then 
The last leave-takings of death begin. 
'Mid the frantic grief of friends and kin 
Her placid features are prisoned in. 
And the casket raised on the arms of men 
Who would die to lift her to life again. 



Oh ! the heart-breaking moment for sorrowful friends 

As the cortege was formed in the porch, 
And the quick and the dead in solemnity wed 

Re-entered the doors of the church. 
A pause ! and a doubt ! Did his courage give out? 

Where is Rocky ? Not missing — no, never ! 
Noble, reverent, grave. 
Handsome, open-browed, brave. 

He will honor his "Maggie" forever. 

No weakling in sorrow, but stalwart and proud 

He followed his love on her way. 
Till nearing the altar, where lowly he bowed. 

And gave back to heaven the blest clay. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 215 

Then the Mass was intoned, 

And the sacrifice made, 
And we felt that to Godhead enthroned 

The angels her spirit conveyed. 

Her body lies in sacred ground in Calvary to-daV; 

And as she wished, the sunshine gilds 
Her quiet bed of clay ; 

While, tented o'er from wintry blast 
By wealth of hothouse flowers, 

The young grass cradles on her breast 
Awaiting summer showers. 

Her memory lives within our hearts, 

A precious thing, a balm ! 
To strengthen and to edify. 

To magnetize, to calm ! 
For meditation subject sweet — 

For emulation fit — 
A blessed life, by Faith and Hope 

And Love's pure sunshine lit. 






216 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

"ROCKY MOUNTAIN" 

O'BRIEN'S BEREAVEMENT. 

Mrs. Patrick A. O'Brien, wife of "Rocky Mountain" 
O'Brien, the well-known Irish patriot, died yesterday 
after a lingering illness at her home, 424 Hart street, 
Brooklyn Borough. Mrs. O'Brien was a tall, fine-look- 
ing woman, and was the mother of several children. 
The funeral will take place on Wednesday at 10 A. M., 
when a solemn mass of requiem will be celebrated at 
the Church of St. John the Baptist, Willoughby and Lewis 
avenues. — A^. Y. Daily News. 



Mrs. Margaret A. O'Brien, wife of Patrick O'Brien, 
who is well known all over the country as "Rocky 
Mountain" O'Brien, died at her residence, 424 Hart 
street, yesterday morning. Mrs. O'Brien was 38 years 
of age and the mother of eight children, the youngest 
but twenty months old. She has been married nearly 
nineteen years, during all of which time she lived in 
Brooklyn. Mrs. O'Brien was born in New York City, 
where she was reared, and until a year ago was a mag- 
nificent type of physical womanhood. She was a 
w^oman of much personal popularity and of a lovable 
disposition and will be mourned by a large circle of 
personal friends. The funeral services will be held 
Wednesday morning at 10 o'clock at the Church of St. 
John the Baptist, corner of Lewis and Willoughby ave- 
nues, and will be conducted by the Rev. Father Sulli- 
van, pastor of the church. The interment will be in 
Calvary Cemetery. Mr. O'Brien is a commercial 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 217 

travt:ler, and has journeyed over this continent from 
end to end. He also has a reputation as a poet 
on poHtical and other subjects. His sobriquet of 
"Rocky Mountain" O'Brien was fairl}^ earned during 
several seasons spent in that superb range of hills, 
where he is looked upon as a most intrepid hunter. 
He is also prominently identified with several Irish so- 
cieties. His wife and he were devotedly attached to 
each other. — Brooklyn Times. 



Mrs. Margaret O'Brien, wife of "Rocky Mountain" 
O'Brien, who died at her residence, 424 Hart street, on 
Sunday, was buried at 10 o'clock yesterday morning. 
A requiem mass was celebrated by the pastor, the Rev. 
Father Sullivan, of the Church of St. John the Baptist, 
assisted by Father Higgins as deacon and Father 
Leyden, sub-deacon. Within the chancel rail was the 
Rev. Father Crowley, of St. Ambrose, who for many 
years has been an intimate friend of the family. The 
church was crowded and the floral offerings were many 
and costly. The pall-bearers were Luke Dillon, the 
celebrated Irish Nationalist, of Philadelphia; O'Dono- 
van Rossa, Mayor Kenny, of Harrison, N. J. ; John Mc- 
Cann, of Manhattan ; Louis Graf, George Molloy and 
Frank X. McCaffrey. The funeral was one of the 
largest that has taken place in the upper district in 
some years. Two barouches carried the flowers. Irish 
societies with which Mr. O'Brien has been identified 
for many years were largely represented. The inter- 
ment was in Calvary Cemetery. — Brooklyn Citizen, 



218 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Margaret O'Brien, wife of "Rocky Mountain" 
O'Brien, who is famous in this country and in England as 
an Irish revolutionist, died at her home, 424 Hart 
street, Saturday, of acute gastritis, from which she suf- 
fered intensely for weeks. Mrs. O'Brien was the 
daughter of John Sullivan, for many years a prominent 
resident of the Seventh Ward, Manhattan, and for the 
past ten years equalty as well known in the Eighteenth 
Ward of this borough. She was married to Patrick 
O'Brien twenty years ago, and was the mother of 
five boys and three girls, the eldest being 19 years and the 
youngest but 20 months old. Mrs. O'Brien was a 
grand type of physical womanhood and well endowed 
mentally. She had a large circle of friends and her 
neighbors showed their afifection by uniting to furnish 
a floral tribute in her memory, to which about twenty 
contributed, headed by Mrs. Charles Rothschild. Mrs. 
O'Brien was but 38 years old, and was born in New 
York, July 29, 1861. 

Her husband, Patrick O'Brien, secured his sobriquet 
"Rocky Mountain" because of his skill as a hunter in 
the West and to distinguish him from the other 
O'Briens who interested themselves with him in the 
movement for Irish liberation twenty 3^ears ago. He 
went to Pigeon Hill, in the invasion of Canada, under 
Captain O'Neill, and associated with him were Denis 
Short, Thomas Nolan and John Molloy, of this bor- 
ough. Mr. O'Brien took an active part for Roosevelt 
in the recent campaign. 

The funeral of Mrs. O'Brien will be held to-morrow 
morning at the Church of St. John the Baptist, corner 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 219 

of Willoughby and Lewis avenues, at lO o'clock, when 
a solemn mass will be sung. The pall-bearers will all 
be prominent Irish Revolutionists, who knew Mrs. 
O'Brien, as well as her husband, and will include Luke 
Dillon, of Philadelphia; Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, 
George Molloy, Mayor William Kenny, of Harrison, 
N. J.; Louis Graf, Patrick Egan, ex-Minister to 
ChiU, and Frank X. McCaftrey. 

A great many letters and telegrams of condolence 
have been received by Mr. O'Brien since his wife's 
death, including one from Mrs. O'Donovan Rossa, who 
was a life-long friend of the dQCQ2iS&d.— Brooklyn Eagle. 



In a letter written by Mrs. O'Donovan Rossa to her 
sister, giving an account of the death and funeral of Mrs., 
O'Brien, w^e read : 

"It will be a shock to many friends to read the noticb 
of Mrs. O'Brien's death. Rocky gave her a magnifi- 
cent wake and funeral, and he remained on guard at 
her side, or around the parlors, every hour of the time. 
The rooms were almost filled with floral pieces from 
the many friends of the family, and an increasing 
throng of people who knew and loved her in life, passed 
weeping to view the remains. Many a glowing 
eulogy was passed in her memory, and at each new 
tribute of esteem paid to his darling Maggie, 'Rocky's' 
eye kindled and his bosom swelled. He himself paid 
her the grandest tribute of all, in the palpable evidence 
of his unaffected, adoring love of twenty years. At the 
High Mass of Requiem at St. John's, Miss Rosemary 



220 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Rogers sang most feelingly; not a dry eye was in the 
church as she played Mrs. O'Brien's favorite melody, 
'Believe me, if all those endearing young charms.' 
Nearly one hundred carriages followed the hearse to 
Calvary, where all that is mortal of the late lovely and 
hospitable wife of 'Rocky Mountain' O'Brien was 
laid. 

''May she rest in peace." 

Mrs. O'Brien was born in Henry street, New York, 
thirty-eight years ago. Her father, John O'Sullivan, 
was born in Ross Carbery, the son of Timothy O'Sul- 
livan and Margaret O'Donovan Rossa. 



HUNDREDS AT THE OBSEQUIES. 



Impressive Services for the Wife of "Rocky Mountain" 

O'Brien. 

The funeral of the late Mrs. Margaret A. O'Brien, of 
424 Hart street, wife of "Rocky Mountain" O'Brien, as 
he is universally known, took place yesterday. Solemn 
requiem high mass was celebrated in the Church of 
St. John the Baptist, Lewis and Willoughby avenues, 
by the Rev. Father Sullivan, pastor of the church, 
assisted by Father Higgins as deacon and Father 
Leyden as sub-deacon. Within the chancel rail was 
the Rev. Father Crowley, of St. Ambrose Church, a 
Avarm friend of the family. There were very many 
beautiful floral tributes, the church was crowded and 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 221 

the funeral altogether was one of the largest that has 
been seen in the district for a long time. 

The pall-bearers were Luke Dillon, of Philadelphia : 
Mayor Kenny, of Harrison, N. J. ; O'Donovan Rossa, 
John McCann, of Manhattan; Louis Graf, Frank X. 
McCafifery, George Molloy, of Manhattan. The inter- 
ment was in Calvary Cemetery. — Brooklyn Citizen. 

A DISTINGUISHED IRISH-AMERICAN. 



A Visit to His Old Home — Patrick "Rocky Mountain" 

O'Brien in West Cork — Interviewed by a 

"Star" Reporter. 

Last week, hearing that the veteran patriot, "Rocky 
Mountain" O'Brien, was taking a short holiday in his 
native district, a representative of this journal, anxious 
to obtain his views on things Irish and American, 
called on the distinguished visitor at Bantry, where he 
is at present- staying. Our representative having in- 
troduced himself, after the fashion of O'Grady in the 
ballad, was agreeably surprised to find Mr. O'Brien 
just engaged in reading the "Star," while lying on the 
table were the "Irish World" and O'Donovan Rossa's 
"United Irishman." 

Mr. O'Brien is, indeed, physically and intellectually, 
a splendid type of Irishman, and, though now almost 
fifty years of age, he looks much younger — a fact which 
points to a robust and healthy constitution. Ever 
since he took his departure from the Old Land he has 
had an adventurous and checkered career in the greater 



222 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Ireland beyond the seas. Although only a boy when 
leaving his native land, his heart, like many another 
exiled Irishman's, always turned toward her. He longed 
to see her freed from the foreign yoke which was 
heavily oppressing her, and he never failed to give 
assistance — generous assistance — to any movement 
which tended toward the betterment of the country 
and the upliftment of his race. The baseness and 
perfidy of Irish landlordism — then in the zenith of its 
evil work — made impressions on his mind which are as 
firm to-day as when, a lad, he saw the old people in his 
neighborhood thrown pitilessly on the roadside, and 
the only cow taken for the rent ! He has ever pre- 
served and fostered, wherever he went through the 
great Continent, an undying love of Motherland, and 
an ever-increasing anxiety to see an end to the long night 
of slavery and oppression which she had to endure. 
Mr. O'Brien left Ireland on board a merchant ship, sail- 
ing from Bantry, and landed in Rio de Janeiro in 1868. 
After spending six months there he went on to New 
York, whence he went to Oregon. Having spent a 
few years in Oregon, he traveled extensively through 
California, and also in the republics of Mexico and 
Central America. In 1870 he took part in the Fenian 
raid in Canada, which, through the perfidy of Le Caron, 
an Englishman, resulted in a complete fiasco. Pat 
O'Leary, another Bantry man, and an uncle to Mr. 
Patrick O'Leary, solicitor, was with him at the Pigeon 
Hill invasion. Mr. O'Brien has traveled extensively 
all over America, and has in recent years paid several 
visits to Ireland. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 223 

Our representative having courteously expressed to 
Mr. O'Brien his wish to interview him, the latter laugh- 
ingly replied : 

"All right ; drive away ; ask as many questions as 
you like." 

*'Well, Mr. O'Brien," said our representative, "I 
know you have a good knowledge both of Ireland and 
America — what are your views on Irish emigration?" 

'T am teetotally opposed to Irish emigration," replied 
Mr. O'Brien, emphatically. "I want Irish boys and 
girls to remain at home. It is saddening to see the 
country becoming depopulated as it is. It is all moon- 
shine about people becoming rich in America — if a 
young man or woman can get a few pounds to send 
home to the old folks and keep themselves respectable, 
it is as much as they can do. There are too many 
fairy tales told about prosperity in America — those 
tales are mostly a hoax." 

"What is the chief reason why you are opposed to 
emigration ?" asked our representative. 

"My principal reason for wishing them to remain at 
home," said Mr. O'Brien, "is this: That if the people 
continue emigrating, as the}^ are, there will soon be no 
one left to fight the enemies of our race. I wish the 
young people to stay and try to ameliorate the wrongs 
inflicted on their country by robber landlords. In 
years gone by the money that came from Irish boys 
and girls in America found its way into the pockets of 
these vampires, who lived on the once tribal lands 
which were confiscated by the murdering Cromwellian 
soldiery, and who spent this hard-earned money in 



234 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

the hells of Paris and the gambling dens of Europe. 
I am every day becoming more and more convinced 
that the people should remain at home in Ireland. It 
is as rich as any other land. Instead of all the money 
now finding its way into the pockets of the landlords, 
the people could keep some of it and feed and clothe 
themselves and educate their children better than in 
the past." 

"How does the general condition and appearance of 
the country strike you at present?" queried our 
representative. 

"On the whole, I should say favorably," replied Mr. 
O'Brien. "Coming across on the 'Teutonic' I had, as 
fellow-passengers, two Irish-American young ladies, 
who never saw Ireland before — Miss Gilbert and Miss 
Kelleher — whose parents lived in the Millstreet dis- 
trict. Down on the quay in Queenstown, seeing so 
many handsome young girls leaving their country, they 
were loud in their denunciation of English rule which 
forced the girls to become exiles from their native land. 
They had traveled extensively in France, Germany and 
other lands, and found no girls to equal the Irish for 
beauty and intelligence." 

"How do our people in America compare with other 
nationalities?" asked our representative. 

"The Irish people are as prosperous, and more pros- 
perous, than any other nationality, and able to hold 
their own in every sphere of life. Irishmen are met on 
the bench, the pupit, the stock exchange and in all the 
leading establishments in the principal cities of Amer- 
ica. In the press the leading men are Irish. Why, in 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 225 

New York nine out of every ten newspaper men are either 
Irish-born or Irish-American. There is one statement 
I want to hurl back in the teeth of the enemies of our 
country — a charge that has often been made — that the 
Irish are a drunken nation. The fact is, they drink 
less than other people. During my sojourn here I have 
not seen, either in Bantry, Cork or wherever I have 
traveled, a drunken man or woman. No; the Irish 
people are not a drunken race. Other nationalities 
that I have met in America drink more, and pay for 
less, than the Irish people. Whatever an Irishman 
drinks he pays for it. Other nationalities that I have 
known loaf and sponge around barrooms, waiting for 
some one to treat them, but Pat spends his own money. 
I have seen more drunkenness among the Scotch, 
Welsh, and English on their native heath in one hour 
than I have ever seen in Ireland. If an Irishman is 
treated only half decently, he can hold his own against 
any nationality under the sun. In America the Irish 
girl is noted for virtue, and the enemies of our race 
have to freely admit it. And now I must say that, 
both Protestant and Catholic, the Irish girls are the 
most virtuous that ever set foot on American soil. 
Never have the Irish girls I have met in America dis- 
graced the mothers who bore them or the fathers they 
left in tears behind them." 

''You have heard the statement made that Irishmen 
are always envious toward each other. How do your 
experiences tally with that?" 

'Tt's a cowardly he !" replied Mr. O'Brien. "I have 
heard it said that if you put one Irishman on the spit 

15 



226 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

another will turn it. Fitzharris was offered thousands 
if only he would turn informer of the Phoenix Park as- 
sassination, and the day he was arrested his wife didn't 
have the price of a loaf of bread in the house. The 
people refused to betray Smith O'Brien, and numerous 
like cases may be mentioned. They have informers in 
Ireland, and so have they in every other nation. 
America had her Benedict Arnold; France had her 
Dreyfus ; Spain, Italy, England and Germany had their 
traitors. Even the gallant Boers, who are fighting 
twelve to one, are not without their cutthroat in- 
formers. In 'yd the Catalpa Expedition rescued six 
Fenian prisoners from Freemantle. This expedition 
Avas organized by the Irishmen of Bedford, Massa- 
chusetts, and any one who would betray it could name 
his price, and get it from the Saxon Government, and 
yet, though numbers were in the know, the secret was 
kept." 

"Have you, met many prosperous South of Ireland 
men in the States?" asked our representative. 

"Yes, numbers of them," said Mr. O'Brien. "Tim 
Coughlan, formerly of Kilcrohane, Bantry, is one of the 
leading Irish merchants in New York. He is a man 
always ready to lend a hand to a fellow-countryman in 
distress. The Chief of the Chicago Police is Mr. D. F. 
O'Neill, formerly of Tralybawn, near Bantry, and an 
old school-fellow of mine. Chicago is proud of 
him, for he has hunted her burglars, bank- 
robbers and thieves — in fact, since he was ap- 
pointed Chicago has become too hot for law- 
breakers. One of the most charitable of priests 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 227 

and patriotic of Irishmen is Father Denis MacCartie, of 
Newark, N. J. I saw him two weeks before I left, 
and he desired me to convey his kindest regards to 
his relatives and friends in West Cork. He has no 
peer in America. In a short time the people of West . 
Cork will hear of his being appointed bishop of one 
of the largest dioceses in the States. Father Jeremiah 
Crowley, of CoUomane, Bantry, who wore chains for 
his country for advocating the cause of the evicted and 
oppressed, is in charge of one of the leading parishes 
in Chicago, and has Mr. O'Neill as one of his parish- 
ioners. William McCarthy, of Skibbereen, has charge 
of immense stores in Washington, and another gentle- 
man who is a credit to Skibbereen is Charles Mc- 
Carthy, a leading engineer in New York. Another 
good Irishman from Skibbereen was the late John 
Howard, of New York, and his widow, though an 
American lady, is as Irish as was her husband." 

"Whom do you think will be the next President?" 
asked our representative. 

"I should say Theodore Roosevelt, the present Vice- 
President. Fie is a high-tariff man, a friend of the 
workingman and a protectionist. I think free trade 
would be the greatest curse that ever befell American 
mechanics and tradesmen. It would be most detri- 
mental to American industries." 

"I see you're not a Democrat and I suppose you 
don't agree with Bryan on the silver question?" 

"I am a Republican, but I would be in favor of the 
free coinage of silver if it were made an international 
issue, but I don't see why America should regulate the 



228 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

price of silver for the rest of the world. If other 
powers accepted silver on the same basis as gold I 
would be a silver man myself." 

"How is the Boer war viewed in America?" • 
. ''The American people, irrespective of party, are in 
full sympathy with the Boers." 

"Then how is it that McKinley was elected?" 

"Outside of his English proclivities he is a great 
statesman, and the prosperity of America demanded 
his election at the time. The election of Bryan would 
upset the present prosperity, whatever would be the 
ultimate issue." 

"By the way, Mr. O'Brien, is it a fact that detectives 
have been following you from Cork all over the coun- 
try, and that two Scotland Yard men are on your 
track?" asked our representative. 

"I have not the slightest doubt that such is the case," 
replied Mr. O'Brien ; "but by the time I leave Ireland 
they will know just as much about me then as now. 
I offer no apology for my presence on Irish soil to any 
human being. I am an American citizen, and that flag 
protects me. Whether my business here is of a pri- 
vate or public nature, that's my affair, and nobody 
else's. I am looking for neither trouble nor prosecu- 
tions. I am stopping here for a week or two at 
Vickery's Hotel, and anybody that wants me can find 
me." 

"I believe you propose erecting a monument to your 
parents in Ardfield Graveyard?" said our representa- 
tive. 

"Yes," said Mr. O'Brien, "that is so; with an inscrip- 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 229 

tion both in Irish and EngHsh. The plan is entrusted 

to the care of Mr. Charles Doran, of Queenstown " 

^'Another worthy Irishman/' remarked our repre- 
sentative. 

"Ah!" said Mr. O'Brien, ''the truest of the true!" 
Our reporter then thanked Mr. O'Brien and with- 
drew. — Skihbereen Southern Star, July, 27, 1901. 



'ROCKY MOUNTAIN" O'BRIEN 



Vigorously Resents Mr. Dooley's Caricature of the 

Irish Race. 

The attention of the Observer has been called by Mr. 
John J. Doran to the following letter signed by Patrick 
"Rocky Mountain" O'Brien, which has appeared in the 
United Irishman, of New York : 

Dear Rossa: A great deal has been talked of lately 
about the stage Irishman and also about the caricatur- 
ing of our people by some of the unclean yellow sheets 
published in the different towns and cities all over the 
United States. But to my mind "Mr. Dooley," alias 
Dunn, is the most contemptible lampooner of the Irish 
race, and the lowest scavenger cad in America. He is no 
doubt a very clever writer, but why does he select his 
own race in preference to other nationalities? His 
writings are copied by every anti-Irish and every anti- 
Qatholic paper in the United States. And the front 
pages of every A. P. A. organ always quote what has 
passed between Dooley and Hennessy. Now, Rossa, 



230 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

a few words from you will put this defamer of our 
people out of business, and I call on you to do it for 
the sake of your children and the good mother that 
bore them, as well as for the sake of very numerous 
readers. If you don't do it you will lose one subscriber 
to 3^our paper, and that is the writer. I have sent 
copies of the following communication to Mr. John 
Finerty, of the Chicago Citizen, and to Mr. J. J. Roach, 
of the Boston Pilot: 

''Mr. J. J. Roach, Boston Pilot. 

''Dear Mr. Roach : If you will not try to stop 
Dooley, alias Dunn, from making fun of our kith and 
kin you can stop sending me the Pilot. I care not 
what you may think of his writings or what effect they 
may have in ridicule of our people. I will accept no 
apology from you for him. 
"Sincerely yours, 

"Patrick 'Rocky Mountain' O'Brien." 

I wrote John Finerty a similar letter, and you can 
also abide by what I have written these gentlemen. 
You cannot confer a greater favor on the tenants of the 
United Irishman estate than by giving Mr. Dooley to 
understand that he has gone far enough, and that in 
future he must select other nationalities and seek for 
greener fields and pastures new. 

Mrs. O'Donovan Rossa does not call the word speak 
"spake," nor deal "dale," foremost "forninst," never 
"niver," or real "rale." Neither would Mrs. John 
Howard call easy "aisy," and I am sure Charley Doran 
would not call meat "mate." I have never yet heard 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 231 

an Irishman or Irishwoman pronounce words as Mr. 
Dooley would make the pubHc beheve they do. David 
McCosker does not talk that way; neither does 
Maurice O'Connor; neither do the O'Sullivan 
brothers, of Lowell; neither does Attorney Cohoran, 
of New York ; neither does Judge O'Neill Ryan, of St. 
Louis; neither does Wilham McCrystal; neither does 
Father Tierney, of San Francisco ; neither does Father 
Lynch, of California, nor his brother, Luke Lynch, of 
Brooklyn; neither does Mr. Wycherley, of the Skib- 
bereen Eagle; neither does Jack O'Shea, T. C, Skib- 
bereen ; neither does Tim Sheehy ; neither does James 
Gilhooly, M.P., Bantry; neither does Billy Crossin, of 
the Irish American Club, Philadelphia; neither does 
Pat O'Neill; neither does Dr. McCahy. Even though 
England did her best to keep the Irish people in ignorance 
as well as in subjection, she has never yet succeeded with 
that part of the programme ; for if an Irishman has a half 
chance he is sure to demonstrate his ability both in this 
country and the old one. Take Richelieu Robinson, of 
Brooklyn ; he was in Congress for several years ; saw you 
at his funeral ; he is only one Irishman out of a million 
who are possessed of all the necessary qualifications to fill 
any office in the land. Mr. McAdoo, now Police Commis- 
sioner of your great city, is an Irishman ; he would not 
call meal "male"; neither does Williams, nor others; 
Patrick Collins, Mayor of Boston, would not call 
whisper ''fisper." Ireland has furnished the pulpit, the 
bench and the bar with as brilliant material as has any 
nation in the world, and yet Mr. Dooley makes fun of 
Archbishop Farley's ancestors, and also of Recorder 



232 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Goff's, and Judge Fitzgerald's, and of Judge O'Ryan's, 
of St. Louis, as well as of yours and mine. Tiiis must 
be stopped, and stopped immediately, and you are the 
very man to stop it. You can do it by publishing this 
letter and sending the following people copies to distribute 
among their friends : David McCosker, 20 Walker street, 
New York; O'SuUivan Brothers, rubber heels, Lowell 
Mass., 500 each ; Maurice O'Connor, 500 copies ; William 
McCrystal, 500 ; Capt. Peter Kelly, Chicago, police, 500 
copies ; Luke Lynch, Brooklyn, 500 ; James Cusick, 
Brooklyn, N. Y., 500 ; also 500 to James Doyle, of Balti- 
more; John O'Sullivan, R. M., Aurora, Neb., 500 
copies; Mrs. John Howard, 500. None of these per- 
sons mentioned will refuse taking 500 copies, and as 
money talks this will put Dooley out of business on 
general principles. — Pittsburg Observer. 




BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 233 

"ROCKY MOUNTAIN" O'BRIEN. 



A Fenian, He Was with the Raiders Into Canada and 

Single-Handed Captured Pigeon Hill— He Has 

Performed Many Daring Feats and Has 

Been a Soldier in Many Climes. 

Among Boston's recent distinguished visitors was a 
man whose name is as remarkable as his personality 
and who is widely known in Ireland and to many Irish- 
men of this country. He is Mr. ''Rocky Mountain" 
O'Brien, and is a hero of the celebrated Fenian upris- 
ing of 1870. 

He is perhaps most generally known for the auda- 
cious feat of capturing a Canadian village single- 
handed in those stirring times— it was the only town 
that fell to either side, and O'Brien, accompanied by 
one companion, rode into the hamlet of Pigeon Hill one 
morning in May thirty years ago and demanded the 
surrender of the town in the name of the Fenian 
brotherhood and in the cause of justice. They told the 
officers of the village that they had an army of 20,000 
ready to march over the hill and destroy the settle- 
ment if it were not immediately turned over to them, 
including supplies, ammunition and arms, and confi- 
dentially advised them to do it. 

The town was surrendered, and, after holding it for 
several hours as a spoil of war O'Brien and his com- 
panion went forth to get their army, and discovered 
^ that their cause was lost, their leader captured and 
* thev were forced to fly in haste for their safety. The 



234 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

town is still standing near the New York line and is 
nominally waiting for the two daring Fenians to 
return and claim it according to the articles of war, for 
it has not been recaptured or formally given over by 
them. 

''Rocky Mountain" O'Brien has performed many 
daring feats in his career of adventure round the globe, 
but none of them can compare with his capture of 
Pigeon Hill, and he says that he is not done revolutioniz- 
ing yet. He is a sworn enemy of the British flag, he 
says, and can never forgive England's oppression of 
his mother country. 

At present he is a prominent citizen of Brooklyn, 
N. Y., when he is at home. He is just now returning 
from an extended tour in Europe, and has spent many 
months in Ireland and England. 

''Rocky Mountain" O'Brien was born near Bantry 
Bay forty-nine years ago, and spent his youth near his 
native place and saw many acts of injustice done 
to his people, and while a very young man made up his 
mind to strike back for the wrong done. His deter- 
mination got the better of him one day and resulted in 
an action that compelled him to flee from the country. 

One morning he saw a bailiff and a policeman seize 
the only cow belonging to a poor old man living near 
him. The man had a family of seven to support and 
the cow was their main prop. Young O'Brien was so 
incensed that he raised an alarm among the neighbors 
and headed a band which rescued the cow and soundly 
belabored the officers of the Crown. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 235 

They recognized him and would have imprisoned him, 
but to avoid prosecution he fled the country, 
taking refuge on board a vessel bound for Rio 
Janeiro. Then his adventures began; he has had 
ups and downs all his life from the very start, but has 
been very fortunate. From Rio Janeiro he gradually 
worked his way across the Isthmus and up into the 
United States. 

He settled in the mining camps of the West, and 
there lost the name of Patrick, with which he had been 
christened, and acquired in its stead "Rocky Moun- 
tain," which has stuck to him ever since and is now the 
only title by which he is known. It was while he was 
in the West that word came of the intended uprising 
against England and the plan to strike the blow by 
entering Canada. He came East at once and offered 
his services in any capacity in which they would be 
accepted. 

He was sent to Malone, N. Y., and there met Mosby, 
a nephew and copartner of the famous Confederate 
raider, and with him took charge of the formation of a 
band of men who were to be assembled near the 
border, at a place called Richardson's farm. O'Brien 
and Mosby got their men there, about 500 in number, 
all armed and ready to advance upon the arrival of the 
proper authorities, and the commander, Capt. O'Neill, 
the army officer who was in charge of the affair. 

The subsequent happenings are now a part of his- 
tory. O'Neill waited in vain for the 2,000 who were 
coming from Boston, and finally decided to push on, 
while O'Brien and Capt. Dennis Short advanced on 



236 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

Pigeon Hill and captured that town for the Fenians 
single-handed, about the only piece of good luck that 
befell the small band of raiders. 

Speaking of the affair, O'Brien says that there were 
many hitches and that the lack of forces and the failure 
of co-operation on the part of the troops from Boston 
ruined the cause. 

"We might have pushed forward and dealt a de- 
cisive blow," said he, "but for the lack of enthusiasm in 
many quarters. We had 20,000 of arms along the 
border, which had been shipped up there as glass, and 
were in readiness to be distributed to a very powerful 
force. The redcoats were waiting for us, and when 
the men advanced from Richardson's farm we were 
surprised by a regiment, and in the few hours of hot 
fighting that followed lost several men and were forced 
to retreat. 

"Then the United States authorities swept down on 
us and gathered in O'Neill and one or two others. I 
remember we were all standing in the road, when we 
were startled by a shout to clear the way, and a team 
of four horses and a coach dashed by us. I recognized 
O'Neill sitting inside with two United States officers. 
Some of the men Avere tempted to kill the horses and 
rescue the leader, but cooler heads prevailed, and al- 
though one or two shots were fired after the fleeing 
coach, no damage was done. When O'Neill had been 
taken away we were without a leader until Boyle 
O'Reilly was prevailed upon to take charge." — Boston 
Globe, December 22, 1902. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 237 

IRELAND AND ITS POSSIBILITIES. 



Lecture by Mr. Patrick "Rocky Mountain" O'Brien 

in Skibbereen. 

Last week Mr. Patrick O'Brien lectured in the Town 
Hall, Skibbereen, on 'Ireland and Her Possibilities." 
Mr. John Murphy, C. U. C, presided, and there was a 
very large attendance, including Messrs. F. McCarthy, 
N. C. C. ; T. Sheehy, U. C. : John Shea, Town Clerk, and 
several others. Mr. O'Brien, who was enthusiastically 
received, said in part : 

"Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen :— This is the 
first time I have had the distinguished honor of address- 
ing an audience composed entirely of Irishmen and Irish- 
women. I will attempt to convey to you an idea of the 
Irish race in America as I found them during the period 
of my sojourn there. I left your land (and mine) thirty 
years ago and sought, beneath the glorious Starry Ban- 
ner of the American Republic that freedom denied me 
in my own country. [Cheers.] What I will say to you to- 
night about the Irish race in that country is not romance, 
remember, but facts that have come under my own obser- 
vation, and bear in mind, ladies and gentlemen, I do not 
pretend to be an orator; on the contrary, I am but a 
poor excuse for one. You will, therefore, be kind 
enough to grant me your indulgence for a short time, 
and whenever you get tired of me, say so, and I shall 

stop. 

"In the year 1847, a few years before I was born, the 
tide of emigration from Ireland commenced to flow. 



238 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

caused by a so-called famine that year. Of course, many 
of our people left for America; years before our people 
also departed for America and distinguished themselves 
in the Revolutionary War, fighting side by side with the 
illustrious Washington, who was, as you know, of Eng- 
lish extraction; but the greatest exodus was during the 
years '47, '49, '50 and thence up to 1879. Now, about 
the famine of '47. I maintain there never was a real 
famine in Ireland. It was an artificial famine, caused 
by the hirelings of hell and the gluttonous law dispensers, 
who were so detrimental to our country. As you are 
aware, the population of Ireland before the so-called 
famine was 9,000,000. To-day she has about one-half 
that number. Now, then, if Ireland could support 
9,000,000 people previous to that artificial famine (which 
was artificial in every sense of the word), and ship more 
than half the products of her soil to England, how in the 
name of God can any person face an intelligent audience 
and say there was or is famine in Ireland? While our 
people were dying by the roadside from starvation in 
those years of which I speak, steamers were leaving the 
'Cove of Cork' laden with beef and mutton for the 
people who passed coercion laws for Ireland. The very 
milk was scarcely cold from the cow when it was shipped 
to England in refrigerators ; the eggs barely laid before 
they found their way to English markets, and during all 
this time our people were dying of hunger in the north 
of Ireland, and in the County Donegal people were com- 
pelled to eat foals. During this period our people were 
buried in coffinless graves with more food leaving Ire- 
land than was necessary to supply their wants. It is 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 239 

too well known how our race has been persecuted since 
the reign of Strongbow and the invasion of Oliver Crom- 
well. Everything has been taken from us except our 
good name and the virtue of our women. In telling 
you about the Irish race in America, there is one class 
of people I wish to call your, attention to in particular — 
it is that of the Irish girls, or, if you choose to call them 
so, domestics. Well, my friends, I would impress upon 
the mind of every Irish mother in this audience to-night 
who has a daughter in America, that that daughter is 
a girl to be proud of, for under the canopy of Heaven 
to-day, in any country or clime, a purer, more honest 
or more noble soul does not exist, and the enemies of 
our race admit that the brightest gem, the most sacred 
and precious jewel an Irish girl possesses, is her virtue; 
and I proclaim it here to-night, as I would proclaim it 
before the Throne of God, that the fairest, gentlest 
and best of women I have ever met are Irishwomen! 
You may well be proud of your daughters. Irishwomen, 
for I have found them to be like the wife of Julius 
Caesar — above reproach. When an Irish gril leaves 
home and bids a last farewell to her tender-hearted 
father and loving mother, her heart is breaking, for she 
is leaving the scenes of her once happy childhood to 
wander in a strange land and is destined probably never 
more to see those beloved parents, but she carries with 
her her fond mother's advice, 'Attend to your religious 
duties; go to your church on Sunday, no matter what 
denomination you belong to, and keep away from bad 
company.' These words are ringing in her ears from 
the moment she sets foot on board the steamer that is to 



240 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

bear her away, and the further from home she goes the 
more determined she is to abide by the advice of her 
fond mother and loving father, and she becomes pos- 
sessed of a greater will power than ever before and is 
fully determined never to bring the blush of shame to 
the cheeks of a broken-hearted father and daily-weeping 
mother. When she takes a last glimpse of the land 
where first she saw the light she makes up her mind to 
be true to her fatherland, come what will. I have met 
Irish girls in every sphere of life during the many years 
I spent in the United States, in the Republic of Mexico, 
the Dominion of Canada and in the republics and prin- 
cipalities in South America, and always felt proud of 
them, no matter what their creed. I have known Protes- 
tant Irish girls to assume the duties of their Catholic 
comrades when they went to their places of worship, 
and I have known Catholic girls to do the same for their 
Protestant comrades. I will relate an incident that oc- 
curred some ten years ago in the great State of Texas. 
I was stopping at the Hotel Vendome in El Paso and 
had a room on the second floor. It was about two o'clock 
in the morning, when I was about to retire, that one ol 
the colored porters asked the time, and I told him. 'My 
God !' said he, *it is too late and too early.' 

" 'What is the matter?' said I. 

" 'Nothing, boss, only one of the chambermaids is dy- 
ing, and I'm afraid that the two girls who went for the 
priest cannot get him to come at this hour.' 

" 'What is her name ?' I asked. 

" 'Mary O'Donnell, boss,' said he. 

"I knew from her name what her nationality was, and 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 241 

became interested. Just at that moment a Catholic 
clergyman appeared on the scene with the two girls 
who went for him, both Protestants, both born in Ireland. 
The girl recovered in a few days and was at her work 
about the hotel before I left. I hope she is still living and 
1 hope that the two Protestants are enjoying all the happi- 
ness of this world, and I hope a place awaits them in 
Heaven. [Cheers.] 

"I could relate several other incidents similar to this, 
but it would take too long. The Irish race, as you are 
all aware, are scattered about like birds of the air. You 
find them in every walk of life : in the army and navy, 
on the bench and in the pulpit. I am now speaking of 
the Irish race in other lands. The Republic of Chili 
was founded by. an Irishman named O'Higgins. Peru 
was founded by Lynch, also an Irishman. The present 
President of the United States boasts of Irish descent. 
The Irish settled in America when it was composed of set- 
tlements, and one of the early governors of the colony of 
New York was a man born in Limerick, Thomas 
Dongan, the Governor who gave New York City its first 
charter. The majority of the men who fought side 
by side with Washington were Irish or of Irish descent. 
[Loud applause.] General O' Sullivan, of Beare, was 
aid-de-camp to Washington, and he was an Irishman's 
son; so was Fitzgerald. Jeremiah O'Brien (who cap- 
tured an English man-of-war) and his seven sons were 
born in Skibbereen. [Cheers.] He fought the first sea 
battle for American freedom. Jack Barry, a native of 
Wexford, was a Commodore of the American Navy. 
When George III.'s embassy offered him a bribe his 

16 



243 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

answer was simply this: 'I am a poor man, but go back 
and tell your master that England is not rich enough to 
buy me/ [Applause.] I saw the grave in St. Mary's 
Cemetery, in Philadelphia, where Jack Barry is buried. 
I also saw the grave, in Machiasport, Me., where Jere- 
miah O'Brien is buried. 

"Now, I must try to tell you something about the Irish 
of the present in America. A great many people have 
false ideas about America and think that it is only neces- 
sary to go to New York and 'all will be fair sailing.' 
But such, my dear friends, is not the case. America is 
as hard a country for a person without friends or money 
as there is in the world. I have seen our people on more 
occasions than one without the price of a cup of coffee 
(no fault of theirs), but whose proud spirit would not 
allow them to make their wants known. I have known 
men to land in New York and walk the streets for weeks 
and to sleep in some one of the city parks for want of a 
better place to lay their heads. What must be the man's 
thoughts when suffering this way in a country with full 
and plenty all around him ? I know a man who to-day is 
one of the leading manufacturers in New York City and 
who has visited Skibbereen on commercial business, who 
had a similar experience. He landed in New York and 
looked for work until his money was all gone, and before 
he would tell any person his predicament he slept in one 
of the public parks two nights (I have this from his own 
lips). To-day, thank God! he is worth half a million 
dollars, and there is not a man in New York who deserves 
it more [Hear! Hear!], for he is a man and an Irishman. 

"Remember, we have two classes in America: the 
good and the bad — he belongs to the former. 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 243 

"There is a class of Irishmen who land in America 
with no more money than the law demands, and your 
humble servant was one of them. Some of the men, 
when they become rich, forget that they were ever poor, 
and whenever they are asked to contribute anything for 
poor old Ireland they ask in what paper will it be pub- 
lished. These are few, thank God ! and the other class 
outnumbers them enough to balance the scales in our 
favor. The man who goes to America and earns a 
decent living, and never forgets the old folks at home, 
and as years roll by accumulates wealth, is always an 
Irishman and is ready at all times to help a countryman 
and to contribute to anything beneficial to his country. 
As for the Irish girl, I need say nothing more, for I have 
already said her generosity is known both in America 
and Ireland. She always sends the best part of her 
wages to her fond parents at home and is never back- 
ward in contributing to every good cause. 

'There is a six milHon dollar cathedral in New York 
City, built from the wages of Irish boys and girls in New 
York. [Loud cheers.] So were the convents and hospitals 
and orphan homes. It is true some of the wealthy Irish- 
men in America contributed, but before the millionaires 
loomed up in the shadowy distance the Irish servant 
girls gave money out of hard-earned wages, and may 
God reward them for it— if not in this world, in the 
next. [Hear! Hear!] 

'There is a great deal, my friends, in the rearing of 
children by their parents in America, but I am proud to 
be able to state here to-night that in nine out of every 
ten cases all the Irish mothers I met in the United 



244 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

States reared their children in the old school and gave 
them to understand they were sons and daughters of 
the Sod. [Applause.] 

"I was traveling late one night on horseback in the 
Republic of Mexico when there were no carriage roads 
where I was. It was a beautiful night in the month of 
August and the moon was shining brightly. I was alone, 
and let me tell you Mexico at night is not a very enviable 
place. I was on my way to a mining camp, some twenty 
miles distant, and not a human being was in sight. Sud- 
denly I heard a voice in Spanish and two men on horse- 
back quickly approached me and said: 'Comos tha mus?' 
meaning 'How do you do?' I knew just about enough 
Spanish to answer : 'Beau gracio, senor' — 'Well, thank 
you.' I was little inclined to stop and talk to them, lest 
they might enter into a Spanish conversation, of which 
language I knew but little. I kept my finger on the trig- 
ger of my revolver, determined to be ready if there were 
to be any shooting done. [Cheers.] After they left me 
they stopped to water their horses. I also stopped, but 
was out of sight. Both wore heavy black beards. Soon 
one of them said: 'Where is that fellow going?' The 
other answered : 'I expect he is going to Wallace's mine, 
that damned Yankee thieving company. I bet they will 
dupe him, too, if he is not a member of the concern.' 

" 'Perhaps he is the paymaster,' said the other. Then 
the other man commenced to sing the following song: 

" 'And although we are exiled children, no matter where 

we go. 
We won't give up the old land without another blow.' 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 245 

I rode back to where they were watering their horses, 
and, introducing myself, found them to be not Spanish, 
for one was a genuine i8-karat Tipperary man and the 
other a Devonshire Englishman, copartners in a large 
cattle ranch forty miles distant in the interior of 
Mexico. I remained at their place one week, and while 
I was their guest they sang that same song more than 
once. I afterward met them in the City of Mexico. 
There was a great bull-fight in the city, and they asked 
me to accompany them to the arena, but I said I did 
not care to see such a brutal show, but they finally 
prevailed upon me. 

"1 must tell you that it is not two bulls that fight, but 
a man and bull and sometimes a bull and a woman. 
On this occasion the fighter was a man, and he killed 
two bulls. He spoke nothing but Spanish all the time. 
I bought his photograph. On the placards his name 
was Barnado Garvano, but after the fight was over my 
two friends introduced the celebrated bull-fighter to 
me as Barney Gavin, a native of Westport, County 
Mayo, Ireland. [Laughter and cheers.] He was in 
the City of Mexico and spoke Spanish fluently. Such 
is the history of an Irishman. He spoke Irish to us in 
the hotel afterward. [Applause.] I was down on 
Long Island, some ninety miles from New York City, 
about sixteen years ago, spending a few weeks with 
my poor wife and two children, when I was suddenly 
called to New York on business. As I could get no 
train until late in the evening I went to a livery stable 
and hired a horse and buggy to drive to the next rail- 
road station, twelve miles distant. The proprietor of 



246 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

the stable sent a boy about ten years old to bring back 
the horse and buggy. I asked the lad if he could drive, 
and he said yes, but the horse being rather lively at the 
time I took the reins from him. I saw by his face that 
he did not like the idea of the reins being taken from 
him, but I apologized to him by saying he was too 
young to handle such a blooded animal. 

"About four miles outside the town we happened to 
pass a cemetery. I saw the lad looking at a newly- 
made grave with tears in his eyes. 'Mister,' said he to 
me, 'would you please allow me to visit my poor 
mother's grave? That is, if you think you have suf- 
ficient time ; if not I will not go.' I told him to go, 
no matter what time it would be. He went, and I saw 
him kneeling on his mother's grave. I must confess 
I wept ! When he returned I asked him his name. He 
replied, Patrick O'Flaherty. He said his father was 
born in Cork and his mother in England. I shall never 
forget the way he spoke of his dead mother. He told 
me he never missed a Sunday without visiting her 
grave, and I impressed upon his youthful mind the 
necessity of so doing, and told him to continue in that 
way. When I returned from New York I related the 
circumstance to my wife, and she said that the boy 
would prosper for remembering his mother. How 
true was her prophecy ! To-day that boy is Mayor of 
a town in Long Island, and he is happily married. He 
never visits New York without calling on me. He always 
refers to the incident of sixteen years ago. He told 
me a few vears since that he had erected one of the finest 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 247 

monuments in the cemetery over the grave where he 
wept sixteen years before. [Cheers.] 

"No man who ever went back on his parents was any 
better for it, and I am sorry to say I have known Irish- 
men in America to do so, but thank God '.-they are few. 

''A great many people, unfortunately for themselves, 
remain in the large manufacturing cities of Philadel- 
phia, Boston and New York, instead of going farther 
west to the prairies. But a number of our people land 
with no more money than the law commands, hence 
they must live where they land. I have found Irish 
people in agricultural pursuits in the far West, espe- 
cially California, very prosperous. It is true a great 
many of our people have prospered in our large East- 
ern cities, but the further away from the East the Irish- 
man goes the better are his chances for success. 

'The years I have spent in America have not taught 
me to forget the persecutors of my race; they have 
taught me to hate them. And as years roll on that 
hate increases more and more, and is stronger than 
when I left Ireland to seek a livelihood under that 
flag which is the emblem of freedom — the Star 
Spangled Banner." [Loud and continuous cheering.] — 
Skibbereen Eagle, August, 1901. 



248 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

THE UNITED IRISH LEAGUE PUBLIC 
MEETING AT DROMORE. 

The Rev. Father Burts was called to the chair, and 
among those present were Messrs. Patrick "Rocky 
Mountain" O'Brien, F. McCarthy, J. T. O'Hea, P. 
Nugent and others. 

Mr. O'Brien, who was received with great cheering, 
said he had great pleasure in coming there that day to 
say a few words to the people of Dromore, because in 
the little schoolhpuse yonder he was taught his A, B, 
C's. That same schoolhouse turned out many dis- 
tinguished men who were in America to-day, among 
them he might mention Frank O'Neill, Chief of Police 
in Chicago, who in that little schoolhouse learned his 
A, B, C's side by side with himself. [Hear! Hear!] 
He holds one of the loftiest positions that Irishmen in 
America might claim. He need not tell them that he 
is well able to fill that position, and that burglars and 
desperados have a "holy horror" of Frank O'Neill, of 
Tralybawn. [Cheers.] In this little schoolhouse was 
also taught a gentleman, Mr. O'Driscoll, of Augha- 
ville, who is now dead, and who was one of San Fran- 
cisco's leading merchants. Speaking on the land 
question, he said that his opinion was that God 
Almighty made the world not for a few, but the whole 
human race. He did not create it for robber landlords. 
He never meant that lOO acres be given to one man, 
500 to another, 100,000 to another and none to some. 
[Hear! Hear!] His opinion was that until they aboh 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 249 

ished landlordism they would have no prosperity in the 
country. [Hear! Hear!] They could only do that 
by uniting together, joining the national organization 
and, standing on a united platform, try to wring 
concessions from the landlords, and if this failed they 
should take up arms, if necessary, and assert their 
rights in the land that bore them. [Cheers.] For the 
last seven hundred years England had been robbing 
and persecuting their country; she had held Ireland in 
an iron grip ; in the streets of Clonakilty the Saxon 
mercenaries held up little children on their bayonets. 
The landlords of to-day were the descendants of these 
hirelings. They were the absentee landlords, who 
were ruling Ireland [Shame!] and of the hard-earned 
money that was sent by the industrious Irish boys and 
girls in America £9 out of every £10 found its way to 
the pockets of these robber landlords, who spent it in 
the gambling hells of Europe. 

Now his advice to the people was to live on the 
product of the land themselves, and if there were any- 
thing over to give it to the landlords. If he had his 
say they would get nothing; but at all events let them 
come last. [Hear! Hear!] 

A Voice — What claim have they to it ? 

Mr. O'Brien — None; absolutely none. I say that 
the landlords are the biggest scoundrels and the big- 
gest highwaymen in the world to-day. [Hear! Hear!] 
He left that parish himself owing to the action of rob- 
ber landlords. His heart was with them to-day in Dro- 
more, and his advice from the platform was to give the 
landlords only what was left. [Hear! Hear!] Give 



250 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

them nothing, even. If they acted unitedly and 
showed that they were doing the work they would 
have the sympathy and assistarj.ce of the Irish race in 
America. [Cheers.] There was no other nationality 
as grand and noble as the Irish race in America. They 
in Dromore and in every other portion of Ireland had 
reason to be proud of their boys and girls in America 
[Cheers] for they never forgot that they had a char- 
acter and purity to sustain. 

Yes, they had always before their minds the last 
parting requests of their aged parents when taking 
their final farewell of the land which in all probability 
they were destined never more to see. They could see 
the Irish girls up at 4 o'clock in the morning scrubbing 
the floor of a hotel, afterward going to Mass and then 
sitting down to send their earnings to their parents at 
home. He (Mr. O'Brien) went to America not be- 
cause he had a row with the family coachman — there 
was no coachman in the family. [Laughter.] He did 
not go there looking for poverty; it was staring him 
in the face at home. Every spot and every plot in the 
country was dearer to him than those of any other land 
[Cheers], but he was forced to leave owing to the greed 
and injustice of landlordism. There was a great deal 
of emigration from Ireland in the last fifty years, and 
he advised the young boys and girls to remain in Ire- 
land in order to leave some at home who would yet 
release Ireland from the grasp of her tyrants and ex- 
terminate them. [Cheers Cheers.] If an opportu- 
nity to right their country were granted it was their 
duty to avail themselves of it. Obedience was a sol- 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 251 

dier's first duty. They should obey in both the church 
and the army; if not they would go to pieces. [Hear! 
Hear!] They should work with courage and deter- 
mination if they were refused their rights, and if an- 
other artificial famine arose they must do what Tommy 
Downshires did — took the provisions from the ships and 
his brother Ulster Orangemen and warned them not to 
pay more than tenpence on the pound. [Applause.] 
If there had been more Tommy Downshires in the South 
of Ireland in the famine period there would not have 
been so many cofhnless graves in Skibbereen and 
Bantry, for the food which went to feed the hirelings who 
passed coercion laws against Ireland would have fed the 
people of the South. He advised them to join an organi- 
zation beneficial to their country and be ready at all times 
to strike a blow for freedom. [Applause.] — Skibbereen 
Eagle, August, 1901. 




252 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

INDEX 

PAGE 

Preface 5 

The Massacre of Wyoming, 1778 30 

Tammany 42 

Farewell to Ireland 50 

Bantry Bay 53 

Thoughts of the Fenian Days 56 

On Leaving Ireland 59 

Leaving Home 61 

A Dream of Home 63 

KiLLARNEY 66 

Maggie 69 

Skibbereen 70 

My Friends in Bantry 72 

Old Dromore 73 

A Visit to My Native Land 77 

A Visit to Clonakilty 80 

Shaun Bhee's Eviction 84 

On Board the "Campania" 85 

A Tribute to My Beloved Wife 88 

To Ireland 90 

A Visit to Gougane Barra 92 

To My Esteemed Friends of Bantry Bay 96 

The Maid of Droumourtneen 98 

Judas Iscariot Sheridan — The Peeler 101 

On Board the "Teutonic" 103 

Dear Old Collomane 105 

An Irish Girl 107 

A Tribute to Major John McBride 109 

Thinking of Home 112 



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 253 

PAGE 

Thoughts of Boyhood Days 114 

GOLEEN 115 

A Year Since Then 120 

Unity 121 

The Sister of Mercy 122 

On Board the ''Majestic" 125 

Capture of Lord Methuen in South Africa. . . . 126 

A Shamrock from Ireland 129 

A Visit to the Old Folks' Grave 131 

Why Fm Sad 132 

My First Visit to Gougane Barra 134 

An Appeal to Ireland 136 

The Irish Volunteer's Farewell to His Mother 139 

The Belle of Ingleside 142 

Los Angles^ Gal 144 

Roosevelt's Charge 146 

California's Welcome to President Roosevelt. . 148 

California 150 

A Trip to Honolulu 153 

King Ned's Special Dispensation 155 

On Seeing a Beautiful Irish Girl Taking a 

Last Farewell of Her Aged Mother 158 

Glengariff's Lovely Bay 161 

My Second Visit to Gougane Barra 163 

The Irish Boer Brigade , . 165 

Comohola 168 

When Papists Could Apply 170 

A Tribute to Timothy Cadogan 175 

FiTZHARRIS 178 

Kruger's Enemy 181 



254 BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 

PAGE 

Leaving Home, August, 1868 185 

A Visit to Glengariff 187 

Easter Greetings to My Dear Children 189 

A Visit to My Sister's Grave in San Francisco, 

Gal., March, 1902 190 

On Board the ''Maine" 191 

Dewey, the Hero 193 

Lady Marjorie Howard 194 

Baby Genevieve 196 

On Board the "Alameda" 197 

On Board the "Majestic" 199 

Sisters Two 200 

A Visit to a Dear Friend's Grave in San Fran- 
cisco, Gal 202 

Tom's Wedding 203 

In Answer to an Invitation to Father Lynch's 

Silver Jubilee 207 

A "Siberia" Poem , . 208 

Hawaii 210 

Rooky's Bereavement 212 

"Rocky Mountain" O'Brien's Bereavement.... 216 

Hundreds at the Obsequies 220 

A Distinguished Irish-American 221 

"Rocky Mountain" O'Brien Vigorously Resents 

Mr. Dooley's Caricature of the Irish Race. 229 
"Rocky Mountain" O'Brien — A Fenian, He Was 
with the Raiders Into Canada and Single- 
Handed Captured Pigeon Hill — He Has 
Performed Many Daring Feats and Has 

Been a Soldier in Many Climes 233 

Ireland and Its Possibilities 237 

The United Irish League Public Meeting at 

Dromore 248 



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is a sterling and tincompromising Irishman, a lover 
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Mitchell. 

Pay this worthy Son of Erin a visit before 
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UNDERj THE SUPERVISION OF THE 

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